Letters to Lissie
by Katy Rose15
Summary: After waiting for two years, Ben is finally able to fight in the war for independence, leaving behind a worried and smitten Felicity. As the years go by, they keep in touch through letters, sharing their hopes, dreams, and fears, growing up together though apart. They had always been close. Could a close friendship lead to something deeper?
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, so this is my first fan fiction, and truthfully I'm a little nervous! I don't own American Girl or any of their characters (shoot). Sorry for any historical inaccuracies; I barely understand modern politics, let alone ones that happened two hundred years ago! Anyway, hope you enjoy, and please don't judge me too harshly! :) Also, sorry if something gets cut off or anything; I'm still trying to figure out this thing!**

_Part 1_

_Prologue_

"Felicity?" She looked up from her sewing, startled. Ben should have left by now, yet here he was in the parlor doorway. "What are you still doing here?" she asked. He held up the small satchel with his few belongings in it. "Almost forgot this," he explained_._"Of course you did," she muttered. The date was October sixteenth, 1777. Ben had turned eighteen the day before, and today he was leaving for war. Possibly for a year, probably for three years, possibly forever. Felicity tried not to think about this. "Lissie?" he asked, coming over to her. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she said. "I'm just sitting here sewing. Or I suppose it could be called sewing if you looked hard enough." He grinned. "It has gotten better," he complimented. "And by the time I come home, you will be a regular seamstress." How sure he sounded he would come home without a scratch! "Well," he said with a sigh. "I should be going." On the inside, she thought, "No! Don't go! Stay home with me and be safe!" Instead, she said simply, "You probably should." He held out his hand. "Goodbye Felicity." She shook it. "Goodbye Ben." He turned to go, but she still held onto his hand. He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said. "Good luck."

"Thank you," he said skeptically. He turned again, and yet she still held on. "Lissie?" he asked. "Are you all right?" "Of course," she answered. "Adieu." "Adieu," he said cautiously. He turned once more, and she threw herself around his waist. "Ben, don't go!" she cried. "Why, Lissie," he said with a smile. "I didn't think you cared."

"Of course I care!" she said. "You're one of my closest friends and the older brother I never had. And you could go missing, or be hurt, or- or killed." She whispered this last part. "Felicity," he said softly. "Look at me." She tilted her face up, and he stood her up all the way. "I'd rather die in battle," he said. "Than live a hundred years without knowing you." Tears stung her eyes. She wiped them away. "Well, don't die," she said. "You'd leave a lot of people grieving."

"I'll try not to," he promised. "I'll be all right. I'll miss you, though. All of you."

"I'll miss you too," she said. "But I'll write to you every day. You'll know about everything that goes in around here, though not much does."

"I look forward to it," he said.

"But- promise me one thing," she requested.

"I'm listening."

She paused, then said, "Please don't come home engaged to be married to a fellow soldier's sister." Ben raised an eyebrow. "I could lose an arm or leg or even my life," he said with a grin forming at his lips. "And you're worried I'll come home _married_?" She smiled sheepishly. "Well, don't worry, you have my word," he assured her with a laugh. "But really, Felicity, do you really think I'm one to do something like that?"

"No," she said. "I was teasing." "Partly," she added silently. They were quiet for a second. Then she said quietly, "You don't have to do this, you know."

"I do," he said. "I want to. Don't you want to live in a country that's free?"

"Well, yes," she admitted. "But I don't want to lose you." He took her hands, and her heart fluttered. "You won't," he promised. "I'll come back. Maybe not in one piece, but I'll come back." She thought of Ben with only one arm or leg. The tears spilled over. "Oh Ben!" she cried, hugging him tightly.

"Shh, Lissie," he hushed, his arms around her trying to console her. "Don't cry so. Tis better to lose a limb than a life, is it not?"

"I suppose," she admitted. "But I don't want you to lose either."

"I won't," he promised. "But just in case something happens-" He took his signal whistle off his neck and pressed it into her hand. "Keep this." She looked at him, surprised. "Won't you need it, though?" she asked. He shrugged. "I can get another somewhere," he said. She fingered it as if it were made if gold. "But-but I haven't anything for you to remember me by!" she argued.

"Felicity Merriman," he laughed. "I couldn't forget you if I tried." She didn't know whether to take this as a complement or an insult. Before she could really consider this, though, her father poked his head in. "Ben?" he asked. "Are you ready?"

"Yes sir," Ben replied. "I'm just saying goodbye to Felicity." He turned back to her. "You will write?" she asked.

"As often as I can," he promised. "And now, Lissie, I _really_ have to go."

"Wait!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand. "Will- will I ever see you again?"

"I doubt it not," he said, secretly quoting Romeo. "Ben?" called Mr. Merriman.

"I'm coming!" he called back. He ran towards the door, stopped short, ran back to Felicity, and kissed her quickly on the forehead. "Goodbye," he whispered. Then he was gone. Felicity stood there stupidly for a second. What had just happened? He had kissed her. She touched her forehead. He had kissed her? Who was he and what had he done with Ben? Well, forget that. He had kissed her! "Why are you still standing here?" she thought. She ran upstairs to her bedroom and opened the window just in time to see him walk out the front door. "Ben!" she called. He turned, and she shyly blew a kiss out the window. He smiled and waved. Then he left. She watched his back until it was just a speck, then sank down to the floor and cried silently.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, sorry the first chapter got posted twice. Oops! :/ again, I'm still trying to figure this thing out!**

_Chapter 1_

_Dear Ben,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I'm not just saying that for formality, either. Nothing really happens around here. Annabelle Cole is to be married in February. Finally, she gets her St. Valentine's Day wedding! If I ever get married (and I'm not saying I will), I'd rather have my wedding in the summer. The weather is so much lovelier! Anyway, she met an English gentleman in New York while visiting her father. They are to be married there, then sail to England in the spring. If you ask me, I think they should just wait until the war is over, but tis not for me to say. Be careful, be safe, and we're all praying for you. Oh, and Mother and Father and everyone else say hello as well. Merry Christmas!_

_-Felicity_

He smiled as he read her letter. Annabelle Cole to be married! For some reason, she was always hanging around the store making googly eyes. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. Maybe there was a regular customer or someone she admired. But those days were over. She was to be married, and here he was at Valley Forge as a soldier. War, he had quickly learned, was not fun. Especially here, where most everyone lay ill or dying. Ben was thankful he was healthy. Tired, but healthy, for the most part. "You're smiling," said Matthew, one of the friends he had made over the past two months. There were five of them: Ben, Matthew, John, Luke, and Daniel. All but John had joined at the same time; John had been there for a year already. Ben looked up. "Am I?" he asked. Matthew nodded. "Who's it from?" "Just a friend," Ben answered. "My master's daughter, Felicity."

"A _sweetheart_?" teased Matthew. Ben laughed. "She's but twelve years old!" "Poor Davidson," sighed Matthew. "The only friends he has are twelve year old girls." "Like you," retorted Ben with a grin. Matthew grinned back. "Oh-ho," he said. "Feisty, aren't we?"

"In my defense," said Ben. "You walked right into that one." Matthew opened his mouth in protest, then closed it. "I did, didn't I?" he laughed. "In seriousness, though, do you have anyone?"

"A girl?" Ben clarified. Matthew nodded. "No," Ben admitted. "You?" Matthew got a dreamy look in his eyes. "Rebecca," he said softly. "Her name is Rebecca." Ben propped himself up on his elbow. "What's she like?"

"Where do I start?" sighed Matthew. "Big blue eyes, golden hair, the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. When I kiss her, it feels like I've died and gone to heaven." Ben thought back to when he was sixteen and had an affair with a friend's sister, Diana. Not an _affair_ affair, just an innocent relationship between a boy and a girl. Then Felicity came between them, and later Diana and her family moved to Maryland. He remembered one day when the store was completely empty except for the two of them. He suddenly had the impulse to kiss her, and kiss her he did, right on the lips. Both had enjoyed it, too, and that was the first and last girl Ben Davidson had kissed. "I'm going to marry her when I go home," Matthew went on. "I haven't asked her father yet, but I promised her I would. I even gave her a ring."

"You're brave," said Ben admiringly. "I'll probably never get married."

"Why not?" asked Matthew. Ben shrugged. "I'd be afraid she would laugh in my face," he said. "Besides, the idea never really appealed to me."

"You wouldn't be afraid if you really loved her," Matthew pointed out. "If it's the right person, you know quickly." Ben shrugged again. "It doesn't really matter anyhow," he said. "After all, I am only eighteen with an apprenticeship I have yet to finish."

"If you don't die first," said Matthew. Ben raised an eyebrow. "Thank you for that vote of confidence," he said sarcastically. "But I promised a- um, certain someone-"

"Felicity," cut in Matthew.

"Maybe," said Ben. "That I would come home safely."

"And I promised my Becky the same," said Matthew. "I'm just staying down to earth, is all."

"Of course," Ben teased. "Because a man in love is always down to earth, right?" "How would you know?" asked Matthew slyly. "Anyone you're not telling me about?" Ben blushed a little. "Well, tis not as if I've never taken an interest in anyone," he said. "But as for right now, no. Which is probably good because if I did, I'd miss her too much." Matthew smiled sadly. "So you know how I feel," he said. "Well, I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow is another hard day." Ben sighed. "And who knows if we'll even be here anymore."

"Exactly," agreed Matthew. "You see how many are ill. I'm pretty sure Luke is coming down with something."

"Maybe he will recover," offered Ben.

Matthew shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "Good night." He blew out the candle. Ben rolled over on the makeshift bed. Here they were in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, everyone miserable. It was Christmas time, yet no one was merry. About one in four of them were sick, not to mention all of them freezing and starving. Ben was thankful he had relatively decent clothes, though he probably wouldn't be allowed to step foot in the dining room at home dressed the way he was. He had been in the army two months and was already exhausted. Meanwhile, just twenty two miles away, the British were warm and cozy and happy, not to mention probably drunk. It wasn't fair at all. He thought back to last year at this time. He was with the Merrimans, barely seventeen years old. He remembered Felicity saying, "Enjoy this; it may be your last Christmas." And he laughed and assured her it wouldn't be. "I shouldn't have promised her so much," he now thought. Felicity had always resented his decision to join the army, and now he knew why. Yes, he was alive now, but a year from now? A month? Even a week? Who knew? He hadn't even seen battle yet, and he was already sure he was dead meat on a stick. "Remember what you're fighting for," whispered his conscience. He rolled his eyes. Conscience, shmonscience. Suddenly extremely tired, he yawned and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Nobody's spirits were better the next day, though they were never raised in the first place. Those who were able did the chores and helped with the sick. The hospital, Ben decided, was a living hell. Cries and moans of the dying rang everywhere. He hoped he would never have to endure that. That evening, the five of them sat in a tent, Ben writing to his parents, Matthew and John engaged in a game of cards, and poor Luke out cold. "Mail call!" cried Daniel, bursting in with snowflakes in his hair. Matthew hopped up. "Anything from Rebecca?" he asked anxiously. Daniel grinned. "Maybe,"he said slyly. John grinned too. "Why so excited?" he asked. "Because a certain someone has a lover," said Ben airily. All the boys whistled. Matthew shrugged. "I'm not going to deny it," he said. "Besides, you all are just jealous." Everyone laughed. "Not me," said Ben.

"Not in this lifetime," Daniel contributed.

"I'm already married," added John.

"You're lucky," said Matthew.

"How so?" inquired Daniel. Matthew grinned. "Let's just say that he knows what to do in a bedroom." Ben and Daniel doubled over. John smiled calmly. "From what I understand, Mr. Holloway," he said. "You know what do to as well as I." Daniel fell over, and Ben gaped at Matthew. "Matthew Holloway!" he gasped.

"Oh, as if you've never done it," said Matthew. Ben shook his head. "I can honestly say that no, I haven't." Daniel regained his composure. "Anyway," he said. "One for Mr Love-Machine-" he and Ben snickered. "One for Ben-"

"That's funny," remarked Ben when he saw it was from his parents. "I was just writing to them."

"One for Luke," Daniel continued. They all glanced at sleeping Luke. "I'll get him," Ben offered. Gently, he shook Luke. "Wake up, Luke."

"No, Mama, I don't want to go to school," Luke mumbled. "Five more minutes."

"You'll miss breakfast," said Ben. Luke sat up like a lightning bolt. "I'm up!" he cried. "Letter for you," said Daniel, handing it to him. "From _Mama_," said Matthew under his breath. Ben grinned at him. "Anything from Grace?" asked John. Daniel double checked. "No," he said. "Not yet." John's face fell. "Oh," he said quietly. "I'm sorry," said Daniel. Grace was John's wife, who, Ben happened to know, he loved dearly. He hadn't heard from her in six months. Ben put his hand on his shoulder. "She's all right," he assured him. "She will write, you'll see." John smiled sadly at him.

Later that night, while everyone traded stories around the fire, Ben wrote a letter to Felicity:

_Dear Felicity,_

_I hope that you and your family are well. I am, all things considered. I'm cold and hungry and tired (and I haven't even seen combat yet!), but at least I'm not ill like so many of us are. Everyday someone else dies. This winter is the worst I've seen, but that might be because I'm used to being in a warm house. As far as the war goes, no news is good news. I can't say how long it will last; all I can say is that I've been here two months and am ready to get out of here! _

_I've made some interesting friends here. There are five of us: myself, John, Matthew, Daniel, and Luke. John is the oldest; he's twenty two and married. Matthew is a year older than me, Luke a few months older, and Daniel a few months younger. Four out of five of us, I'm starting to think, are far too immature for war, though I've seen boys here as young as fourteen. I feel bad for them. For most of them, this is their first time away from home. Who knows if they will make it back?_

_Please give Annabelle my heartfelt (and I do mean heartfelt!) congratulations on her marriage. Say hello to everyone for me. Stay out of trouble, merry Christmas, and happy new_ _year! Here's hoping for peace._

_-Ben_


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I guess the prologue didn't post twice. Huh. Oh well. Anyway, thank you Cookiecutter97 for your encouraging review; I really appreciated it! I'll try to get more chapters out, but it's kind of hard with that dreaded thing called homework, and, you know, just other stuff. Hope you like it so far! :)**

_Chapter 2_

It was Christmas time, a time where merriment rang everywhere. All of the houses of Williamsburg had some sort of greenery in their windows, and the cheery tidings of joy rang through the streets. Carolers stood in the streets, their voices filling the air with "O come all ye faithful"'s and "Joy to the world"'s. Even during wartime, Christmas was a merry time. It was a time that Felicity loved, and while this year was no exception, she couldn't get her mind off of Ben. Not a day went by where she didn't think," I wonder if he has enough to eat?" or "I hope he has warm clothes." She had heard about the poor soldiers in Valley Forge, starving and freezing. She hoped with all of her heart that Ben wasn't there, or if he was, she hoped he was at least healthy. A few months back, she had written him the first letter, to which he hadn't replied. "Mail travels slow," everyone told her, and while she knew they were right, she always had a slight fear that something had happened to Ben. As snow and evening fell, she gazed out the window sadly, thinking of him. Over the past year, she had developed a fancy for Ben, an Annabelle Cole kind of fancy, though much more subtle, meaning she didn't try to flirt; because honestly, what interest would an eighteen year old have in a twelve year old? Still, it was nice to admire him from afar. Though this was partly a factor as to why she missed him, it wasn't the main one. The main one was the same as everyone else's: she had come to love him like a family member and naturally worried about him. On top of that, she was the one in the family closest to him, though everyone was in their own way. Though five and a half years apart, Ben and Felicity had always had a special relationship. Now, she was afraid that the war would ruin that. "Lissie!" snapped Nan, shaking her out of her thoughts. "For the third time, will you kindly get your head out of the clouds and help me set the table?" Felicity shook her head as if shaking thoughts of Ben out with it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "I'm coming." Nan rolled her eyes at her sister's absentmindedness but said nothing. They silently laid the plates down in their appropriate places and placed the silverware next to them. Felicity sighed as she glanced at Ben's old place. No plate piled high with food there (for someone who ate so much, it was beyond her why he remained thin). "Nan?" she finally said, breaking the silence. "Do you ever think about Ben sometimes?"

"Occasionally," the nine year old replied, not looking up. "Why?" Felicity shook her head. "I'm just worried about him." Nan looked up. "I'm sure he is fine," she said assuringly. "He is eighteen years old; he can look out for himself."

"But what if he be ill?" said Felicity. "What if he doesn't have enough to eat? He was always thin anyway; what if he is starving? And tis an unusually cold winter as it is; what if he is freezing?"

"Will you relax?" said Nan. "Felicity, you are twelve years old and acting like a mother! Besides, 'twas his choice, and if he be miserable, then he needs to face it and deal with it." Felicity frowned. "How can you be so heartless?" she asked.

"I'm not being heartless," Nan said defensively. "I'm just saying that it was his decision, is all. We all tried to change his mind, but I think he's even more stubborn than you are, if that is even possible. Why are you thinking about him so much?"

"I miss him," answered Felicity. "And I'm worried about him."

"Just relax," said Nan. "Think about Christmas and the celebrations and ooh! Lissie! don't forget Lady Hawthorne's New Year ball that you and Elizabeth (and I!) were invited to!" Ever since the invitation came, Nan had been bouncing off the walls; or at least she would have been if it were not unladylike. It was the girl's first real ball, and Felicity suspected that it would be all she would be talking about for the next six months. "Ben won't be there to escort us," said Felicity glumly. Nan pffed. "Father can do that," she said. "And it wasn't as if Ben loved to dance either." Felicity shrugged. That was true; Ben had two left feet. "Now," said Nan. "Do you know what I do when I worry about someone?"

"What?"

"I keep them in my prayers and finish my dear little sister's mending for her."

Felicity grinned. "Nice try," she said. "But you are finishing your chores on your own."

Christmas drew closer and closer, and more and more baking came with it. Every day, another caller came to say "Merry Christmas!" and settle in for a nice long visit. Depending on who it was, Felicity would either stay and chat politely or escape to Elizabeth's house. The latter usually ended up happening. The girls would sit up in Elizabeth's room and giggle about how perfectly dashing the carpenter's son was or how dreadful Mrs. Tanner's hair looked on Sunday at church. Today, they took over the kitchen (much to the cook's dismay) and made Shrewsbury cakes, a tradition they did every year. In recent years, they had made pies as well, but in the middle of a war, they had to ration their food. So that just left the cakes, but the girls didn't mind. They had fun anyway. "What are you going to wear to the ball?" asked Elizabeth, cracking an egg into the wooden bowl. Felicity shrugged and wiped a strand of hair out of her face. "I don't know," she said. "I hadn't thought of it. Probably the green dress I wear to church sometimes." Elizabeth smiled politely. "Oh, that one is pretty," she said. "But you always wear it, and it is getting a bit old, do you think mayhap your mother-or you, even- could make you a new one?" Felicity shook her head. "It would be nice," she said. "But it just wouldn't work."

"Why not?" asked Elizabeth. "It worked when we were nine and invited to the dance lesson."

"We weren't in a war then," pointed out Felicity. "Fabric is more expensive, and business is poor. I would be lucky if I had some new lace to trim it with. Tis no use in even asking." Elizabeth sighed. "That war," she said. "Has ruined everything." "Oh, Lizzy," chided Felicity. "Not getting a new dress is not the end of the world." Elizabeth shook her head. "It's not just that," she said. "The war is crippling our pocketbooks, it's physically crippling young men every day, it's taken Ben away from you, and it's taken my father away from me. I haven't seen him in nearly two years when he left for New York. My mother is starting to consider moving us up there to be with him." Felicity stopped stirring the batter. "No!" she gasped. "Oh Elizabeth, you can't go to New York! Do you know how lonely I would be?"

"Don't worry," Elizabeth assured her. "Tis just in the back of her mind in case things get really bad. Right now, the war has been a good distance from Williamsburg. I think we're safe."

"Let's hope it stays that way," said Felicity. "Now, shall I go fetch some holly to stick in the basket when we finish these?" Elizabeth nodded. "That would look lovely," she said.

As Felicity gathered some sprigs of holly, she thought back to their conversation. The war had torn people apart from both sides. She herself had to give up her father occasionally when he would go off with the Commissary to deliver supplies for the soldiers. It was a dangerous job (though not quite as dangerous as actual combat), and gave her an extra person to worry about. Not only that, but when he was gone, that left Marcus unofficially in charge of the store, which could raise some controversy because he was a slave. Felicity and William spent much of their time helping him now that Ben was gone, yet Mr. Merriman was considering hiring another apprentice. As far as business went, it was a good idea, but Felicity didn't like it because it seemed to replace Ben. Then again, maybe it would be nice to have a new face in the house. From Elizabeth's perspective, she and her mother were slightly frowned upon for being loyalists. She hadn't seen her father in nearly two years, and when Annabelle moved back to England, she would probably never see her again; this wasn't really the war's doing, though. It was Annabelle's. Nonetheless, Felicity knew that Elizabeth would miss her sister. Annabelle had matured in the last few years, and while Felicity still didn't like her, Elizabeth could tolerate her better and was glad to see the Annabelle indeed had a brain that she could use more than for hopeless flirting. Felicity now sighed. Times were changing, that much was obvious. And if there was one person who hated change, it was her.

Christmas Eve, also known as the longest day in a child's calendar, soon came. Usually, Felicity enjoyed this day with its preparations and good cheer, but this year, everything was off. For starters, she woke up too late, Nan had caught a cold and stayed in bed, and Mrs. Merriman had a throbbing headache. Things continued to go downhill all day. Instead of snowing gently, the heavens spit down freezing rain, making it too dangerous to go anywhere. This meant no church service that evening, which was one of Felicity's favorite parts of the whole holiday. The worst was that afternoon when Father said that there would be no Christmas turkey this year. Felicity poked herself with her needle when he said this. "What?" she asked. "Why not?"

"Not in wartime," said Mr. Merriman sadly. "Tis too expensive."

"Besides," added Mrs. Merriman. "Our soldiers need it more than we do. And we will still have the ham."

"But the turkey is the key part of Christmas dinner!" protested Felicity.

"Not some years when we have goose instead," pointed out Nan. Felicity glared at her. "You aren't helping."

"I'm sorry, Lissie," said Father. "That's just the way things are right now."

"It will still be a merry Christmas," said Mother optimistically. "Even without turkey."

"It's not just the turkey!" exclaimed Felicity. "The whole holiday will be ruined! No big Christmas dinner, no church service this evening-"

"There will be tomorrow morning," pointed out Nan.

"You still aren't helping," snapped Felicity. "And worst of all, Ben isn't here with us!" A look of understanding crossed her mother's face. "I see," she said. "That's what this is all about."

"Ben will be back eventually, Felicity," said Father. "It will still be a happy Christmas."

"We don't know that!" she cried. "We don't know that he will come home! Right now, he could be dead for all we know!"

"Ben is dead?" asked wide-eyed William.

"No, of course he isn't, dear," said Mrs. Merriman soothingly, shooting her oldest daughter The Glare. "Ben will be back. And Felicity, you're being silly. I know tis not our traditional Christmas, but that doesn't mean it will be bad either. Just accept it and try to be merry." Felicity frowned. "Fine," she finally said. "But I still don't like it."

"No one does," said Father. "But that's just the way things are right now. Things will get better, you'll see."

"When I'm thirty," thought Felicity glumly.

It continued to rain all night, and Felicity woke up the next morning in a bad mood. "Oh yes," she reminded herself. "Today is Christmas." She sulked getting dressed, and she sulked through breakfast. It wasn't until in church that morning that she started to perk up. Out of all the stories in the Bible, the Christmas story was her favorite. Now, hearing the Reverend recite it, it gave her a happy feeling. She liked to imagine little baby Jesus, so tiny in His manger, and Mary and Joseph proudly showing Him to the shepherds and later the wise men, all who prayed and offered their gifts to the holy child. As the organ started to play for the last hymn, Felicity realized that it didn't matter that it was raining outside. It didn't matter that they didn't have the money for lavish Christmas dinners and parties. It didn't even matter that Ben wasn't with them. It was still Christmas, the most joyful day of the year. That much would never change.

That afternoon turned out better than expected. It started out with Felicity, her mother, and Rose doing the cooking when there was a knock on the door. Nan opened it to reveal Mr. and Mrs. Fitchett. "Merry Christmas!" both said in unison. Mrs. Merriman smiled. "Merry Christmas!" she said. "What a lovely surprise!" Mrs. Fittchet presented her with a pie. "It's apple," she said. "I thought that since we all have limited Christmas dinners this year, we should at least share what we have with each other."

"Oh my!" gasped Mother. "It smells delicious! Thank you ever so much!" She handed Felicity the pie to put in the kitchen. "Please, if you aren't othereise engaged, won't you stay for Christmas dinner? We'd love the company." Mrs. Fittchet smiled.

"Oh, Martha, we'd be delighted to!" she said. "Wouldn't we, Roger?"

"Yes," agreed Mr. Fitchett. "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Merriman. Are you sure it isn't any trouble? We'd hate to be a bother."

"Tis no trouble at all," Mrs. Merriman assured them. " Please, come in. Tis cold out there. Felicity, take their wraps. Nan, set some extra plates around the table. Oh goodness! Edward!" And so resumed the normal, hectic preparations for Christmas dinner.

Throughout the afternoon, many more friends stopped by to say merry Christmas, most of them giving some sort of dish they had made. Half of them ended up staying for dinner, a feast made up of everyone's contributions. Mrs. Cole even gave a perfectly plump goose, which stuffed them all. The house was full of happiness and laughter all through the afternoon and late into the evening. At one point, Mr. Fitchett brought out his fiddle, and Mother sat at the spinet. The two provided music, and the rest danced and danced to their hearts' content. They all sang carols like "Hark the Harold Angels Sing" and "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen." It was a merry Christmas, perhaps the merriest Felicity had ever seen. The only thing she would have changed was to have Mr. Cole there for Elizabeth and to have Ben there. She hoped that he was having a merry Christmas, wherever he was. "God bless you, Ben," she thought as she started to doze off by the fire while the adults chatted in the other room. "I hope that next Christmas we will be together again."

The ball was a few days later, and though dressed in her old green dress, Felicity felt beautiful. As the snow gently fell, the clock struck midnight, and 1777 turned into 1778. "Happy New Year!"s rang everywhere. Felicity felt happy and optimistic. Closing her eyes, she made one wish for the new year: that 1778 would bring peace and Ben home to them. "Happy new year, Ben," she thought. "I hope this year keeps you safe and healthy, and brings you all the luck and happiness in the world."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 3_

_Dear Ben,_

_I hope this letter finds you alive and well and... well, alive. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to receive your letter! We all were. Everyone here is all right, I suppose. Annabelle has gotten married and moved back to London. I never liked her, but I do hope for her safety on their journey._

_I've just turned thirteen last week! Finally, I'm a teenager! So far, I feel no different. Mother had a lovely party for me, even if it was smaller than usual. Most importantly, for six months you are only five years older than me instead of six!_

_Business at the store is not so good. I suppose with this being wartime, people don't have as much idle spending money. I help out there as much as I can, especially when Father is off with the Commissary. It's harder now that you are gone. Father is considering hiring a new apprentice, but we'll see. I don't like the idea of replacing you, though he says that will never happen._

_Anyway, Miss Manderly is starting to teach us French at lessons. It's pretty dreadful, though. All I remember is "Bonjour, Monsieur! Comment ça va?" Oh well. I will most likely never need it anyway._

_Everyone says hello and sends their love. We miss you._

_-Felicity_

It was late spring now. May... all right, Ben couldn't remember. Late May, at any rate. The terrible winter at Valley Forge was over. They were somewhere in Maryland now, and the weather was much nicer. The French had now formed an alliance with them, putting the British on edge. Meanwhile, the German Baron Friedrich von Steuben stepped in and started training the young soldiers. He taught them the basics like how to march (Ben never knew there was a right or wrong way), how to aim, and how to attack with bayonets. From his experience with the Prussian army and strict discipline, the Baron turned a bunch of old farmers and clueless teenage boys into a real army. Personally, Ben liked his accent. And his name was fun to say. Things were slightly looking up. Tomorrow, however, combat, something Ben had miraculously not seen yet. Blood shed, lives lost-maybe even his own. He tried his hardest not to think that this night could be his last. He was smart, he was careful, and despite what Felicity used to say, he was not _completely_ oblivious. They had been trained well. Nonetheless, there was still the risk. He closed his eyes and laid back on the hard ground. A few feet off, some other soldiers sat around a fire, eating what little supper they had and trading stories. He heard their laughter ring through the night air. Normally he would join them, but tonight he felt like being alone for a little bit, lost in his thoughts. The spring night was pleasant; the stars shone brightly above him and the crickets chirped. All too soon, however, his serenity was disturbed by Luke. "Ben?" Luke asked, sounding panicked. "Ben? Are you all right? Ben!" Ben opened his eyes.

"Relax, Luke," he laughed. "I'm just tired." Luke sat down next to him. "Aren't we all," he said. Ben just nodded. Both boys just stared off into the distance for a while. Then Luke said, "Battle tomorrow."

"Mm-hm," answered Ben.

"Think it will be bloody?"

"John says they always are."

"You scared?"

"No, you?"

"Little."

"Me too." Neither said anything for a moment. The night wind played with Ben's dark hair. He tried to keep it out of his face, but what was the point? "You know," said Luke. "When I joined the army, I thought it was going to be all about adventure and slashing enemies' throats and glory."

"Me too," said Ben. "But I guess that's all just a fantasy."

"_This_ is our reality," said Luke, gesturing around the camp. Ben nodded. Everyone was in rags, some without shoes. Everyone was dirty, and their hair was long and unkempt. Many of them hadn't shaved since God knows when. Ben felt the stubble on his own cheek and sighed. So this was what he had waited nearly three years for. He now felt as if he were awaiting death. "Well," said Luke, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm going to bed; I'm tired."

"I guess I will too," agreed Ben. Both unrolled their blankets and lay down on the hard ground. Ben thought back to his loft at the Merrimans'. At first he found it too tight and small, but he grew to like it. It was private and quiet, tucked away from the rest of the world. It was small but cozy, and all his own. And he gave it up for an itchy blanket and cold ground. "Quit whining," he told himself. "You chose this, so stop complaining and deal with it." He rolled over and tried to sleep. It took a while, but finally he drifted into a dream about going home. He was awoken suddenly by a big clap of thunder and a downpour of rain that drenched everybody. "Ugh!" he groaned. "Really?"

The next day was gloomy. A slight drizzle fell on them as they marched to their potential doom. Ben's heart hammered inside his chest. He could die. He could be dead by the end of the day. Everyone marched stiffly with grim countenances, all but Matthew, who marched stiffly while whistling. "What are you so happy for?" whispered Ben. "We could die!"

"Loosen up!" Matthew whispered back. "It's an adventure!" Ben and Daniel glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. Some adventure. All too soon, they reached the battlefield. They stood. They waited. Then a shot was heard, then another, and another. The British were there and attacking. Everyone slammed to the ground. A seemingly endless line of redcoats loomed before them, firing on then mercilessly. Ben wasn't going to lie; he was scared to death. He grabbed at the grass and shut his eyes. He was going to die, he was going to die! He heard Daniel next to him murmur, "O God, O God, O God," over and over again. A second later, everyone was up on their feet again, firing back. Ben loaded his rifle as quickly as he could. His finger slipped, and he muttered a word that would have put soap in his mouth back home. _Home_. He missed it so badly right now. He missed his mother comforting him when he needed it. He missed Mr. Merriman treating him as his own son. He even missed Felicity teasing him. He thought back to their goodbye. He remembered how she had cried a little and how he had hugged her and assured her that he would be back. He remembered how he had kissed her quickly on the forehead right before he left. Or was it her cheek? Oh well, no matter. He had expected her to go, "Eww! That's disgusting, Ben Davidson!" Instead, she blew her own kiss out the window. That had been sweet of her, perhaps the sweetest thing she had ever done for him. "Pay attention," he told himself. A cannon blasted, killing two men. He cringed as cries of pain sounded everywhere. "Tell my parents I love them," he said to Daniel as bullets whizzed by, one just barely missing his ear. "Wait, what am I doing just standing?" he thought. "I've got my own weapon! Oh God, I've got a weapon in my hands! I'm holding something that can kill someone! It can even kill me if I'm not careful! Oh for God's sake, just shoot, you idiot!" He took aim and fired, and a British soldier grabbed his arm in pain. Ben looked down at his rifle. "Oh my God," he thought. "I just shot someone." He didn't know whether to feel proud or terrible. Oh well. Now was not the time. That would come later- if he lived that long. Cannons fired. Guns were shot, including his own. Men on both sides dropped dead. Smoke and cries filled the air. Hand to hand combat proceeded, which was even worse. Ben tried his hardest to remain strong, not to show how scared he was. The whole fight was nothing but a blur. All he really saw was a bunch of red in front of him. He tried hard to fight the soldier off, who did likewise. "Oh my God, we're trying to kill each other," he realized. He them felt something sharp-_very_ sharp- on his chest. When he realized that it was a knife slowly digging into his skin, he quickly hit the soldier over the head with the butt of the rifle. The man clutched his bloody forehead and cried out in agony. He stumbled to the ground, and only for a split second did Ben look into his eyes, which looked back at him sadly. "You won," they seemed to say. His eyes closed, and his chest heaved up and down. A few seconds later, it stopped. Ben stared in horror at what he had done. "God Almighty!" he thought. "I just killed someone!" A sinking feeling filled his heart. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

The British ended up retreating, yet there were many lifeless bodies on the ground from both sides. Ben knew he should be glad that they won the battle (and that it didn't last too long), but truthfully, he felt like a murderer. He didn't even acknowledge the pain in his chest until they got back to camp and Matthew exclaimed, "You're bleeding!" Ben looked down. Matthew was right; his shirt was stained with blood. The rest of his friends gathered around. "How'd that happen?" asked Daniel. Ben shrugged. "I think someone cut me with a knife," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh God," murmured John. "Why on earth didn't you tell anyone?"

"I don't know," said Ben. "I didn't think it of any importance."

"It obviously is if it's bleeding," John argued. "Take off your shirt and let me see." Ben obeyed, and just above his right breast was a small but bloody gash. "That looks painful," Matthew remarked. John examined it. "Tis not very deep," he said. "Just hold a cloth over it until the bleeding stops."

"Is it fatal?" asked Luke.

"No," said John. "You'll probably have a scar, though."

"Wonderful," Ben muttered.

"Aw, cheer up," said Matthew. "You've got to have _some_ battle scar to show what a great war hero you are! Look how many scrapes and bruises I've gotten. I've even got this burn!" He proudly rolled up his shirt sleeve.

"That's from when you accidentally tripped on a log and your arm brushed the fire," Ben pointed out. Matthew grinned. "Rebecca doesn't know that." Everyone laughed. Then Ben flopped backwards on the makeshift bed and sighed (after the storm last night, tents had been acquired). "Now what's wrong?" asked Daniel.

"Nothing," Ben assured him.

"Something's wrong," said Luke. "What's eating you?"

"Nothing," Ben said again. "It's just-well- all right, this is going to sound ridiculous-but I feel bad-terrible, really,-about killing that man. I know that that's war, but I feel like a murderer now." Everyone else was silent for a moment. Then Daniel said, "I know what you mean. I thought it would make you feel great and victorious, but instead, it makes you feel awful."

"I agree," chimed in Luke.

"Me too," agreed Matthew. John shook his head. "It's kill or be killed, boys," he said. "You can't be soft hearted if you want to be in the army. We all made the choice the fight, and now we have to make the sacrifice. That's just war." They let his words sink in. "You'll get used to it," he went on. "It gets easier."

Later that evening, Ben wrote again to Felicity by the flickering candlelight:

_Dear Felicity,_

_I hope that all of you are well. We are all relatively fine here. Of course, we all have scrapes here and there, and John's shoes are history, and you would probably run for the hills if you saw me now (and that's being optimistic!), but none of us are dead yet! _

_We fought our first battle today. Let me tell you right now, combat is no fun. _

_How I'm alive to write you this is a mystery to me._

_By now, I'm sure you've heard of the French alliance with us. While we all appreciate it, I personally think they just did it because they don't like England, not because they particularly like us. Well, maybe your French will come in handy someday after all! With the French fighting alongside us, it puts the British in their toes. Maybe, just maybe, they will surrender. That will be the day._

_Be good, Lissie, and don't get into too much trouble. Please say hello to everyone for me. _

_-Ben_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 4_

_Dear Ben,_

_I pray that you are well. We all are here. Tis hard to believe that you have been in the army almost a year now, come October. You have been sorely missed._

_Nothing really happens here. We of course hear about the war, but as of right now, it is quite a ways away from our everyday lives. Let's hope it stays that way. Around the house, my daily chores have increased considerably. I cook more, I clean more, I'm stuck with the laundry and mending more, I have to tend to the younger children, and I help at the store. Oh, and lessons are squeezed in there as well. And then I cook and clean and mend and tend some more. Don't get me wrong, Ben, I'm not complaining, I'm merely... very well, I'm complaining. _

_Business is still poor, and Father is seriously considering hiring another apprentice. Don't worry, though, I'll never let him replace you._

_Please be careful, and by the time you receive this, it will probably be around your birthday, so... happy early birthday! Don't make it your last._

_-Felicity_

It was October now, nearing Ben's nineteenth birthday. One more year (if he made it that long) and he wouldn't be a teenager anymore. Back in the summer, Philadelphia, which had been in British control for a while, was taken out of their hands, much to many Patriots' relief. Slowly but surely, the tide of the war was turning. The civilians could most definitely see this. The actual soldiers, on the other hand, couldn't really tell; everyday was the same struggle for survival. Most days not even survival as much as something to do. Camp life was quite tedious, especially in the summer. The hot weather made them irritable, and because of this the silliest argument over a game of cards could easily become a full-blown fist fight. Actual battles were even worse. The weather was hot, and the fire of guns and smoke only made it that much hotter. And to top it all off, the mosquitoes were more ruthless than the British themselves. Luckily, the summer was over, and cooler weather started to set in. The months had crawled by, more battles and more deaths. Miraculously, Ben and his "comrades" were still alive. There were six of them now. A young boy that Matthew knew joined them. "This is Jacob," he said when the boy first came. "He's my great-aunt's second cousin's niece's nephew." Everyone cocked their head and stared at Matthew blankly. "He's a distant relative," he clarified.

"Ohhh," they all said. Jacob was only sixteen, and he was puny. He was short and skinny, pale with hair the color of milky tea. Ben guessed that he had been a sickly child. All of them realized quickly realized that they were going to have to look out for him, starting on his first day of basic training when the sergeant taught the new recruits how to fire a gun and after stating very clearly that they were _not_ to actually shoot it, Jacob accidentally shot it. He didn't hurt anybody, thank goodness, but he was put on kitchen duty for about a month after that.

Jacob's first battle came a few months later, at the present month of October. Under the lead of George Rogers Clark (his name wasn't nearly as fun to say as Baron von Steuben), they were west of the Appalachian Mountains, not too terribly far north of the Ohio River, a remote area that Ben had never dreamed he would ever get to. He had never even dreamed that he would get west of Philadelphia, let alone the Ohio River. It was here that the worst fighting he had seen thus far occurred. The first battle wasn't too horrific, as far as battles go. At the very least, Ben had seen worse. For Jacob, on the other hand, it did not bode well. He had barely passed basic training anyway, and now he marched out of step. Things went from bad to worse. When the actual fighting started, and everyone slammed to the ground, he started crying out of sheer terror. "I th-thought I would make s-such a great s-soldier!" he blubbered.

"Well, so far so good," said Ben, his own heart pounding, though he had seen many of these already.

"No!" Jacob cried. "It's not!"

"Why not?" asked Ben, growing alarmed. "You're not wounded, are you?"

"No," said Jacob. "I wet myself!"

Had Ben not been in a life-or-death situation, he would have laughed until _he _wet _himself. _But this was not the time. "Oh, for God's sake!" he exclaimed. "Get up!"

"I can't!" Jacob protested. "Everyone will notice!"

"No one will notice, trust me," Ben snapped, wondering how on earth Jacob could be thinking about his dignity at a time like this. "Now get up and be a man!"

Jacob obeyed.

"And quit crying!" Ben added. "You're acting like a little girl!"

Contrary to what had happened earlier, Ben was not a tough person. He wasn't exactly soft-hearted, but he had always been a laid back, easy going type of person. Either he was growing up, or the war was changing him. Maybe it was both. That night, he lay on the mat in the tent, lost in his thoughts, with Luke a few feet away, snoring up a storm. For some reason, he had never felt so far away from home. Perhaps it was because this part of the colonies (if it could even be called that) was inhabited by only a few white men and the Indians, whom he had heard many stories about but had never actually seen. He knew that the ones in the area were allied with the British, so he supposed he would see one sooner or later. The October wind howled furiously outside, and Ben curled up more under the itchy wool blanket. His mind drifted to the Indians. He had never really given them a second thought back home in civilization, but way out here, the thought of them was unnerving. They could be anywhere, lurking in the darkness, waiting for just the right moment to let out a war shriek and scalp them all. Ben didn't know about anyone else, but he rather liked his scalp on his head, thank you very much. The thought of this gave him chills all over. In the distance, a lone wolf howled, making him jump. He remembered when he was a little boy and his father told him about when he ran into an Indian way back when he was a young man fighting in the Seven Year's War. As he had only been seven when his father told the story, Ben didn't remember all the details, but he remembered that it had been a pretty frightening incident, involving near death until his father finally was able to kill the Indian. Ben hoped this would never happen to him. He'd sooner run into a redcoat than a native. He rolled over on his other side. For really the first time since he enlisted, he started to feel homesick. Here he was in the middle of nowhere, miles from civilization, potential danger lurking around every corner. And the danger he was most concerned about didn't speak the same language as he did. He heard a noise outside. His first thought was, "The Indians! Oh God, this is it!" Then he thought, "Or the British!" but then he realized that they would most likely be asleep as well. Curiosity got the better of him, and he oh so gently opened the tent flap. Just barely, though, just enough to see who was out there. He squinted, and in the darkness he could see that it was one of their men. He lit a lantern and silently crawled out of the tent. And there, sitting by the leftover embers of the now extinguished campfire, sat Matthew. Ben frowned. What was he doing up? He approached him softly. "Matthew?" he whispered. Matthew whirled around. "Oh, Ben," he sighed when he saw who it was who had startled him. "Tis only you." Ben sat on the log next to him. "What are you doing out here?" he asked. Matthew pushed a hand through his hair. "Can't sleep," he answered. "Been thinking about home too much."

"Me too," agreed Ben. "Especially out here, miles from anywhere." The boys were quiet for a while. Then he added, "I'll bet you've been thinking about Rebecca."

Matthew nodded.

"You miss her an awful lot?"

"Like crazy," Matthew replied. "It's been a year since I've seen her."

"You'll be able to see her when our enlistment is up next month," pointed out Ben.

"It can't come fast enough," said Matthew. "Will you be heading home?"

"Until New Years," Ben answered. "To Yorktown. My sister is getting married at Christmas, and I want to be there. Then I'll reenlist."

"I will too," said Matthew. "They need soldiers desperately. I intend to stick around until they surrender, or at least until I am wounded or killed."

"Me too," agreed Ben. "Let's just hope the latter doesn't happen." Another silence. Then Matthew said, "I've never felt so homesick before. Right now, all I want more than anything is my Becky."

"You really love her, don't you?" Ben asked softly. Matthew nodded. "Aye," was his quiet answer. Ben paused, then asked hesitantly, "What's it like to be in love, Matthew? Is it really as great as everyone makes it sound?" A smile lit up Matthew's face. "Tis even better," he said. "I swear, it's the most wonderful feeling in the world. When she hugs you, kisses you, even just looks at you... well, it's hard to explain. This joy, this happiness, it fills you up like no other, you know what I mean? It's so simple, yet so complicated. It's too beautiful for words." Ben smiled a little. "It sounds nice," he said.

"Tis the nicest feeling in the world," said Matthew. "Just you wait and see, Davidson. There's some special girl out there, waiting for you to lift her up on your white horse and carry her off into the sunset." Ben blushed a little. "We'll see," was all he said. They then heard thunder in the distance. "Well," said Matthew, standing up. "You know what that means."

"Get back in the tents before we get drenched," said Ben. The two headed back to their tents. "Goodnight, Matthew."

"Goodnight, Ben."

As Ben settled back in under the blanket, he thought about what Matthew had said about being in love. Was it really that wonderful? Matthew had made it sound like Heaven. Ben wondered if there really was some beautiful girl out there, just waiting for him to come. Well, for now, no one would ever fall in love with him looking like this. He himself hadn't really seen himself in months, which probably wasn't such a bad thing. He probably would be the ugliest man she (whoever she was) had ever seen. He sighed. Though it sounded vain and silly, he was tired of feeling ugly and dirty all the time. He was ready to feel clean and handsome again. Maybe that would come again someday with a beautiful girl to come with it. Maybe someday...

The next morning was dreary, and a slight drizzle fell down on them. The storm last night had drenched everything, including their firewood, which they needed if they wanted something besides hardtack for breakfast. Somehow, Ben found himself with the job of finding dry kindling. This meant venturing off into the nearby woods, and who knew what lurked back there? "Aw, you'll be fine," said John when he brought this up. "Just grab some dry wood and come back."

"What, are you afraid that the ghosts of dead Brits are going to get you?" teased Matthew. Ben frowned. "I'd rather run into the ghost of a Brit than an actual Brit himself," he said. "Besides, don't ghosts do most of their haunting at night, genius?" Matthew shrugged. "Don't know," he said. "Never thought about it."

"Just get the wood and come back," said Daniel. "Even Jacob could do it."

"What do you mean 'even'?" demanded Jacob. Ben raised an eyebrow. "You want to go get it?" he asked. Jacob's eyes grew wide. "Not a chance," he said quickly. "I'm not going back there." Ben sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes," he promised.

"Don't let the ghosts get you!" called Matthew. "I won't!" Ben called back. "I'll send them after you instead!"

He hadn't intended to go very far into the woods, but somehow he made his way deeper and deeper, not realizing how far from camp he was. He didn't think of it until he looked behind his shoulder. "Hm," he thought. "I must've gone farther than I thought. Oh well." He looked down at the kindling he was holding. That should be enough. He turned to head back, and he came face to face with an Indian. His heart jumped to his throat. An Indian, standing inches in front of him. He held his breath. It was a woman, a beautiful, tall woman with long black hair and dark eyes. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only a few seconds. Ben's heart raced. What was she going to do? Was she going to hurt him? Was she going to speak? Her brown eyes were wide and curious. Slowly and shyly, she reached out and touched his face. Her touch was gentle and seemed frightened, and her face was full of fear. That's when he realized that she was just as frightened as he was. Finally, he spoke. "It's all right," he said in a low voice. "I'm not going to hurt you." She quickly pulled her hand away. "It's all right," he said again. "I won't hurt you if you won't hurt me." She cocked her head at him, as if trying to understand what this white man was saying to her. She then said something in a strange liquid language, bearing no resemblance to English or Spanish or French or probably even Chinese. However, the way she spoke was very gentle. She then pointed to the bundle of biscuits he had brought along (it never hurt to be prepared, and besides, he was _always_ hungry). Her eyes met his, and, understanding what she meant, he quickly gave them to her. She said nothing, didn't even offer a smile of thanks. She devoured those hard, dry biscuits as if they were the best thing she had ever tasted. Ben frowned. He may have needed those! And now he had stupidly given them away. Then, as if reading his thoughts, the woman took out the string of beautifully hand-painted beads out of her thick dark hair and pressed them into his palm. He looked down at them. They _were_ beautiful. They had many wonderful designs on them, and no two beads were alike. The colors alternated between a light blue and yellow. She spoke again, and Ben could tell that this was a gift for him in return for the food. He gently fingered them. While they were no significance to him, they would make a nice souvenir for Felicity. He looked at the woman and smiled. "Thank you," he said. The woman warmly smiled back and responded in her language. Then she was gone. Ben stood there a while. He had met an Indian. And lived to tell about it. The woman hasn't been savage, as most said that natives were. She had had a very kind, gentle way about her, one that had made him feel at ease. Perhaps the natives weren't necessarily a people to be feared. Perhaps deep down and aside from culture, they were just like white men.

Battles continued, the bloodiest ones Ben had seen yet. His nineteenth birthday passed with little recognition, just a few "happy birthday"s from his friends and some others. It was also on this day that he saw his first branding. Not his own, thank goodness; another soldier, one he had never really associated with, but who had always seemed like a nice sort of fellow. A few days before, he had run away from battle and was caught. Enough said. Everyone was forced to gather in a square around the post where the convicted was tied with his hands around the post. The poor boy seemed scared to death. His sentence was read: Charles Whitcomb, age seventeen, for running away during battle, was to be branded as a coward and dismissed from the army. "You'd think they were burning him at the stake, the way they're carrying on," Ben whispered to John. "He's getting his just punishment," John whispered back. "Now hush." A drumroll started as if poor Charles was to be executed, and his head was tied against the post so he wouldn't squirm and they wouldn't end up burning his eye or anything. The brander took the stake with the "C" on it out of the red-hot coals. Poor Charles was shaking, and his face was sweating. The brander brought the stake to the victim's cheek, and almost instantly there came the sickly-sweet odor of burning flesh. "Oh God!" cried poor Charles. "No, please! oh God!" Ben's stomach flipped, and he cringed. It wasn't as bad as seeing an execution, and it wasn't as bad as torture back in medieval times, but it still was sickening to watch. Jacob clung to his arm until he pried him off. The scene didn't last long, only a few seconds. Charles then fainted from the pain. "Let this serve as a warning to all of you,"said the captain forebodingly. "You are dismissed." All of the men departed, sobered by this horrific scene, another terrible aspect of daily life in the army.

That evening, Ben penned another letter to Felicity:

_Dear Felicity,_

_We are all well here, as I hope you and your family are. The weather is growing colder, but for right now, that's a bit of a relief because battle in the heat of summer is almost worse than winter. I cannot tell you our whereabouts, in case this gets in the hands of the British, but I can tell you that it is the farthest from home I have ever been. Tis lonely out here, and I find myself homesick occasionally. This has been some of the worst fighting I've seen yet. Thankfully, I haven't lost any of my close friends yet, but it's always heartbreaking to see someone you were friendly with lose his leg or worse, his life. _

_On a happier note, my sister is to be married at Christmas! If you ask me, tis about time; she is twenty two! Our parents tried to set her up with many suitors, and evened threatened to arrange a marriage for her, but she said she was waiting for "just the right one". I suppose I can't say I blame her. Anyway, my enlistment will be up by then, so I will be able to go home for the wedding. Then I'll reenlist. I won't have time to come to Williamsburg, unfortunately, but just remember this Christmas that I am not far from you and safe and warm. I know you don't want me to reenlist, but I have to, Lissie. I intend to stick around as long as I can. _

_All of you are and remain in my prayers. Please keep us in yours; we need them more than anybody!_

_-Ben_


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 5_

_Dear Ben,_

_Well, Father hired another apprentice. His name is David Benson (oh, the irony). He's fifteen and quiet, like you were, but in an arrogant way. He __**is**__ arrogant! He thinks he is all that because his father was second cousins to the governor. While he is not a Loyalist, he is not a fervent Patriot either. This is fine, of course; that is just his opinion. But then he bad-mouths the army and says he doesn't understand why some idiot would want to fight just so they can say they are independent. He says that even if we do win, the country would be too weak to stand on its own and eventually collapse. Naturally, this miffs me some because of you. And now he's got your loft too! He says it smells like horses and wrinkles his nose. I rather like it, and I know you do too. He has completely moved into what I consider your rightful territory, and I don't like it. Truthfully, I hate it. I will never, ever be as close to him as I am to you. He will never have a place in my heart as you do. Ma_ybe _Father can replace you, but I never will. I always mention you so that he knows good and well that he's just the replacement until you get back!_

_Your sister is getting married! How wonderful! That must be a light in the dark for you. I suppose you'll be the next in the family to marry. When that day comes, I assure you I'll be there, even if you don't invite me! _

_At the present, Father is away with the Commissary. I miss him and worry about him. Tis not actual combat, but it's still a dangerous job. At least now we have David to help with the store, though he is not much help. With all the wealth he grew up with, you would think his parents could afford a tutor to teach him simple arithmetic!_

_I pray that you have a merry Christmas and that 1779 brings an end to this war and you home safely._

_-Felicity_

Nearly two months had gone by, and Ben's enlistment was up for the year. At the first chance he got, he went home to Yorktown for the wedding, though it was still a week away. It took him a couple of days, but he made it safely. It was evening when he got there. It was cold and windy, and all the shops were closing. Many shops he had known since he was a child were now out of business because of the war. He sighed when he saw them. Maybe the war would end soon and businesses would open up again. He figured that Mr. Merriman's store should be relatively fine, though, if he could hire another apprentice, so for now he didn't have to worry. From the looks of it, Yorktown seemed to have been left alone by the British. This was a good sign; he didn't have to worry about his family's safety. He made his way to the house. It looked the way it always had. He saw his father at the front door, home from work. Ben smiled to himself. He hadn't seen him in over a year, and now here he was, just feet away from him. His father stopped and looked up at the night sky, then sighed. His face looked weary. "You'd better get inside!" Ben finally called, coming forward towards him. "The wind is picking up!" His father turned and frowned, then squinted to see who it was. When he saw that it was his son, his face broke into a huge grin. "Benjamin Davidson!" he laughed. "You little scamp!" Ben dropped his things and ran to him, and his father enveloped him in a big hug. "Get over here, you," he said good-naturedly. "You're not so little anymore, are you?" "I'm nineteen," Ben reminded him. Mr. Davidson whistled. "Nineteen," he said. "Last I saw you, you were what now, seventeen?" He then let him go. "Well now let me look at you." Ben stood up straight. His father smiled as he studied him. "My God, boy, you're taller than I am!" he remarked. "You're not a boy anymore either, are you?"

"No," said Ben. "I guess I'm not." They started walking towards the house. "Well, how have you and Mother been?"

"We've been well," Mr. Davidson answered. "William and Faith too. She and your mother have been stressing over the wedding ever since John asked her to marry him. You remember him, don't you?"

"John Winchell?" said Ben. "I remember. He went to William and Mary to study medicine, didn't he?"

"Aye," said Mr. Davidson. "He's here for supper tonight; he just got here twenty minutes ago."

"And they're to be married on Christmas Eve?"

"That's the plan. A small wedding, here at home, though I'm sure that somehow or other your mother will turn it into a huge town affair." Both laughed. Then Mr. Davidson asked, "Well, how have _you_ been? Army life gotten you down yet? Ben shrugged. "It has its ups and downs," he replied. "The last couple of months have been really bloody, especially the area west of the Appalachians, where we were. But some other parts can be...entertaining." His father smiled. "We can tell from your letters," he said. "That Matthew sounds like a character." Ben laughed. "He is," he agreed. Then his younger brother William came around the side of the house, holding a bundle of kindling. "Father," said William. "Ma wants to know if you remembered the-" He stopped when he saw his brother. "Ben!" he exclaimed, dropping the kindling and nearly tackling his brother to the ground in a big hug. "You're alive!"

"Not for long," said Ben. "If you don't stop squeezing me!" William let go. "Sorry," he said. "I just can't believe you're really here! Ma! Faith!" He ran back into the house. Ben just shook his head and smiled. He never knew William cared that much. A minute later, his mother and sister came out, with his soon-to-be brother in-law and William at their heels. "Ben!" exclaimed Mrs. Davidson, hugging him tightly. "Benjamin Davidson! Oh, darling, you're home!" She kissed his forehead.

"How are you, Ma?" he asked.

"Glad that I don't have to worry about you anymore," she said with a laugh. She then let him go. "Oh Ben, look at you! You look so grown up and handsome! You're taller than your father!" She kissed him again, then Faith hugged him hello. "Tis good to see you again," she said. "It's been so long!" "A year and a half," he said. "You look well, Faith. And congratulations! My God, you're getting married!"

"I know!" she laughed. "You remember John Winchell, don't you?"

"Of course," he said, shaking John's hand. "Congratulations to you too!"

"Thank you," said John. "And welcome home!" Then William said, "Can we continue this inside? It's freezing out here!"

"Natalie has supper on the table," said Mrs. Davidson. "Are you hungry, dear?" "Indeed," answered Ben. "It's been ages since I had anything really substantial!"

Supper was the best meal he had eaten since the night of his eighteenth birthday, back at the Merrimans'. He tried to remember his manners and not to wolf it down. The evening went on, and it felt good to sit in a warm, cozy parlor by a warm, cozy fire. Later that night, after John had left, he actually felt _clean_. He had bathed and shaved, and now as he got ready for bed, he marveled at the fact that he was in his own room, his own wonderful, blissful, _private_ room. No more of those awkward few seconds of being naked in front of others, at least for now. He lay down on his bed and sighed contently. Never before had it felt so warm and soft. As he was about to blow out the candle, his mother poked her head in. "Do you need anything?" she asked. He shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. She came in anyway and sat down on the bed. "I suppose it feels good to be back in an actual bed again," she said. He nodded. "You have no idea," he agreed. She brushed a strand of hair out of his face, then frowned. "You'll catch pneumonia if you go to sleep with your hair wet like that," she warned.

"No, I won't," he protested. "If that were true, I would have caught pneumonia ages ago." She gave him that mother look that said, "You'll be sorry later, but it's your choice." Ben grinned. "Do you know how long it's been since someone actually worried enough about me to remind me of little things like that?" he asked. She smiled sadly. "I am your mother," she said. "I care about you more than anyone. That's why I care enough to worry about these things. I love you." She then kissed his forehead. "Get a good night's sleep," she said. "I'll see you in the morning." She blew out the candle and left. He rolled over and smiled to himself. As much as her hugs and kisses used to annoy him, it now felt good to be loved again.

His days were spent leisurely. Everyone had agreed to just let him take it easy and enjoy his brief time at home. The next morning, he woke up at four, thinking it was time to get up. When he realized that there were no annoying drumbeats or Matthew pouring freezing water on his head, he smiled and rolled over, thinking, "I still have another blissful three hours!" He ended up sleeping until ten (he had never slept in that late in his life!), but nobody minded. Everybody was interested in his war stories, especially William. "I wish I could sign up with you," he said wistfully when Ben told the story of the first battle he had fought. "Ohh no," said Mrs. Davidson. "I worry enough with one son gone; I don't need to worry about two."

"Besides," said Ben. "You're only fourteen. You're too young for war; believe me, I've seen fourteen-year-old soldiers."

"When I get older, then," said William decisively.

"By then," said Faith. "The war will hopefully be over."

"Hopefully," said Mr. Davidson.

A couple of days later was Christmas Eve. The day was a hectic one, more so than a typical Christmas Eve because it was also a wedding. Friends and relatives came every hour, it seemed. Mrs. Davidson and Natalie, the slave who had been with them since Mr. and Mrs. Davidson were married, rushed around, taking things out of the oven, putting up last minute wedding decorations, and putting something right back in the oven. Faith and John had wanted a small, simple wedding in the parlor. Over his nineteen years, Ben had learned that the word "simple" was _not_ in Katerina Davidson's vocabulary. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked as his mother rushed by with an armful of the bride's petticoat. "Go help your holly with the brother," she ordered. "Ugh! I mean go help your brother with the holly."

"Mother," said Faith, appearing in the doorway. "Relax. Tis just a wedding." "Tis not _just a wedding_," retorted Mrs. Davidson. "Tis your wedding, and you're my only daughter, not to mention my first born. I will never be the mother of the bride again; do you think your brothers' weddings will involve me nearly as much?"

"Who said I was getting married?" asked Ben with a grin. "Maybe I'll just be a bachelor all my life."

"Where's the fun in that?" asked William, coming in with an armful of holly. "Where do you want this, Ma?" "Set it down there on the table," she said. "I'll set it up later."

As the time drew closer, things became more and more chaotic. All of the women congregated upstairs to dress themselves and the bride. The men shaved, threw on their Sunday best, combed their hair, and called it done. Finally, the wedding started. The house looked lovely, especially the parlor. Ivy hung from the fireplace mantle and tops of windows. Holly was nestled between it and spread throughout the room. Candles glistened everywhere, especially in the windows, giving the room a warm, Christmassy glow. Night was falling, and so was snow, making the outside look enchanting. John looked handsome, but nervous. Soon everyone rose, and Faith slowly approached, leaning on her father's arm. Ben had to admit, his sister had never looked so beautiful. She wore a white dress that she and her mother had made, with long, lacy sleeves and a silk bodice stitched with tiny pearls. A short veil, also made of lace, covered her dark hair, which fell in loose curls past her shoulders. It was held in place by a crown of pearls. She carried a small bouquet of white flowers with holly sprigs. She had a sweet smile on her face, and an aura of calmness and grace about her. John, on the other hand, looked more nervous than Jacob surrounded by a troop of redcoats. Mr. Davidson just looked pale. Ben couldn't believe it; his sister, the sister who he had played with and argued with and laughed with and grown up with, was now getting married. A feeling of bittersweetness sunk into his heart. Faith was all grown up. She was a woman now. He felt bittersweet, but proud of her. She now stood between her father and husband to-be. The wedding ceremony proceeded. "Dearly beloved," the minister began. "We are gathered here, in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation, to join this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted by God Himself, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and His Church." He went on to explain the purpose of marriage and all of that. "I require and charge ye both," he continued. "As ye shalt answer at the dreadful day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment as to why ye may not be lawfully joined in Holy Matrimony, ye do now confess it." He went on to warn them about God's Word and all of that. No objections came from anybody, so he went on. "John Winchell..."

Congratulations rang through the air for Mr. and Mrs. John Winchell. Said couple would not stop kissing either. Had Ben been younger, he probably would have found this disgusting, but he found himself thinking it rather nice. "That will never be me, though," he thought. At this point in his life, he was pretty much set in the notion that he would never marry. He found love in general tiresome and overrated. Well, up until now. Everyone said that it was a wonderful thing, and if it could make his sister happy, then he was ready to agree. But he didn't think anyone could ever love him that much, and to be honest, he didn't think he would ever be able to love someone else that much either.

The rest of the evening was filled with food, laughter, and dancing. Ben stood off to the side, watching. Soon William came up to him with two girls in tow. One of them was absolutely beautiful. She was petite and curvy, with blonde curls pinned up in an elegant style. Her blue eyes looked as though they could pierce right through you. Her gown was low cut, and though he tried not to look, Ben couldn't help but notice that she didn't have a bad bosom. "Ben," said William. "I'd like to introduce you to Bessie Sue."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bessie Sue," said Ben, a bit overcome by her beauty as he bowed. "Oh no, this is Magdalena," said William. "And she's all mine. _This_ is Bessie Sue. I saved her especially for you." He winked and gestured to the other girl, who Ben had overlooked. She was tall and bulky, and her straight brown hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck. Her gray eyes were dull as she surveyed him. "My, you're sure handsome," she drawled. Ben felt his face grow hot. "Um-you too," he stammered.

"Will said you was a soldier," she went on. "You must be mighty brave."

"Mm-hm," he mumbled. He felt her eyes bore into him, specifically in a place too low for comfort. "Is it hot in here?" he asked, fanning himself. She grabbed his hand. "Come on," she said. "It's cooler in the barn."

"So," Ben said after a while, sitting next to her in the stable. "How exactly do you know William?"

"I actually just met him tonight," she explained. "I'm John's cousin, you see, and Magdalena is his sister." Ben nodded. "I'm Faith's brother," he said.

"I know," she laughed. "Older or younger?"

"Younger," he replied. "I'm nineteen."

"Older man," she mused. "I like 'em like that." Ben started to feel uncomfortable. "How old are you?" he asked. "Seventeen," she answered. "You married?" He shook his head no. "Me either," she said. She took a bottle out of her pocket and took a swig. She then offered him some. "Whiskey?"

"No, thank you," he said. She put it away and smiled. "Don't drink?" she asked. "Not usually," he said. "At least not heavily."

"You're a good man, aren't you?" she laughed. He half shrugged. "I make you nervous?" she asked.

"Women in general make me nervous," he admitted. She smiled again. "Shy one, are ya," she said. He looked down. Then she said quietly,"If you were to kiss me, I'd be mighty obliged." Ben glanced at her hopeful face and, being the nice person he was, he couldn't say no. He pressed his lips lightly on hers, and she kissed back with passion. As her tongue brushed his, something tasted funny. He pulled back and frowned. "Does-does something taste funny to you?" he asked.

"Oh gosh, Ben, I'm sorry," she said. "That's just my tobacco." She spit it out. "I bet you don't chew tobacco."

"No," he said. "I don't." She moved her stocky frame closer to him. "You tired?" she asked.

"A little," he confessed. She put her big hand on his cheek. "Get undressed, love," she murmured. His eyes widened. "But-but it's cold!" he protested.

"I'll warm you right up," she said slyly, her hand now toying in a place it shouldn't have been. Ben stood up. "No, that's all right," he said, turning to leave. "What's the matter?" asked Bessie Sue. "Am I ugly or something?" "No, no," he assured her. "You're very pretty. It's not you, it's me."

"Wait!" she said, standing up. "I'm not going to hurt you or nothing." She sat him back down and took his waist coat off. "I just wanna know you better." She kissed him and started to unbutton his shirt. "Don't worry, love," she whispered. "I've got enough experience for the both of us."

"Well, I don't," he said.

She smiled. "You're a virgin if I ever saw one," she cooed. "Now come on, darlin'. I know what what to do." Ben pulled himself away. "No," he said firmly. "I'm sorry, Bessie Sue, but I can't."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because it's wrong," he said. "And I have a reputation to uphold."

"Nobody has to know," she said slyly.

"No," he said again, standing up and buttoning his shirt. "I'm going back inside. I'm sorry, but you'll have to find someone else to do...those things with." And he got out of there as fast as he could.

"Where have you been?" asked Mr. Davidson once Ben was back inside.

"I-uh-went out for some fresh air," he lied. William waltzed by with Magdalena. "Where's Bessie Sue?" he asked.

"Oh, she just stepped out," Ben lied again. He stepped over to where his mother and sister were standing before anyone could question him further. "What a lovely wedding," remarked Mrs. Davidson. "Don't you think, Ben?" "Of course," he agreed. A new song started to play, and he grinned and bowed to his sister. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Winchell?" She curtsied in reply. "Of course," she agreed. He took her hand, and she rested her other hand on his shoulder. They slowly danced in time to the music. "Where is John?" he asked.

"Talking with a bunch of relatives," she replied. "I thought we had a big family until I met his." Ben laughed. Then he asked, "Well, how does it feel to be an old married woman?" Now she laughed. "I've never been so happy to be called anything in my life," she said. "Even an old married woman. And it feels wonderful."

"Were you nervous?" he inquired.

"Out of my mind," she confessed. "All I kept thinking was, 'don't trip , don't trip!'"

"You didn't look nervous," he said. She smiled. "Good," she said, "That's what I was trying to do." They were silent for a little while. Then she said, "I want to thank you for coming. I know you had to go out of your way to."

"I would have come even if I were in China," he said. "You're my sister." She smiled again. "That's good to know," she said.

"Besides," he added. "It was a good excuse to go home for just a little bit."

"Must you reenlist, Ben?" she asked sadly. "Can't you just say that you served for a year and be satisfied?" He shook his head. "They're desperate for soldiers," he said. "And I want to say that I fought until the bitter end, even if we lose." She just sighed. Changing the subject back to her, he said, "You look beautiful, by the way." Her smile reappeared. "That," she remarked. "Is the nicest thing you have ever said to me."

He grinned. "It's your wedding day," he said. "I'm obligated to be nice." She just rolled her eyes good-naturedly. He hesitated, then leaned in and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations," he whispered. She pressed herself closer to him. "Thank you," she whispered back. "And Ben?"

"Yes?"

"You're on my toe."

_Dear Felicity,_

_Well, I officially have a brother-in-law. He is a good six years my senior and a doctor, but not too bad of a fellow. Faith loves him, and that's all that matters. Do you know he studied medicine at William and Mary?_

_This Christmas was much better than last. It felt so good to be home again. And next month, back to the army. I hope things start to look up, because right now, they are looking pretty bleak._

_I'm sorry this isn't a very long letter, but nothing has really happened. In our situation, though, no news is good news. The wedding was beautiful, and that is really all there is to say. And Lissie, give David a chance. He may surprise you._

_I wish you all good health and fortune for the coming year._

_-Ben_


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 6_

_Dear Ben,_

_Another birthday, come and gone. I am fourteen years old now. Rose says that soon I will be pinning my hair up and batting my eyelashes at every boy who walks by. I think I'd rather kiss David. Speaking of which, I have tried to make friends with him, but oh Ben, he is so conceited! He is lazy too. Father is becoming a bit agitated with him, but he keeps saying to give him a second chance. I wish it were him who were risking his life and you who were here with us. I'm sorry, that was not very nice to say. But tis true._

_Now that I am older, I find myself being invited to more and more balls. I will be frank; they are boring. I enjoy a pretty new dress every now and then (though this happens less and less now) and dressing up and dancing, but I find myself a wallflower most of the time. All of the handsome young men are snatched up by the older girls. Not that I really care; it would just be nice to have a partner for once. _

_In the meantime, I am so sick of British soldiers around town! There have been no battles or little skirmishes, thank God, but tis unnerving to see them. _

_I don't know if you have heard or not, but the new governor of Virginia, Thomas Jefferson, is debating moving the capital from Williamsburg to Richmond. I don't know how I feel about this; I've lived in Williamsburg all my life, and it has always been Virginia's capital. However, if moving it to Richmond protects us from attacks, then I suppose it is the right thing to do. _

_I know I say this all the time, but do be careful, Ben. We don't want to lose you._

_-Felicity_

It was August of 1779. Ben's brief time at home ended quickly, and BAM! army life picked up right where it had left off. But that had been a full eight months ago. Now, as Felicity's letter had already said, Thomas Jefferson had become the governor of Virginia and had decided to move the capital to Richmond, but who knew when that would go into effect? Currently, the British controlled most of Georgia and had recently captured Charles Town, South Carolina. This was where Ben was, in the hot, humid swamps of South Carolina. Under Francis Marion ("Swamp Fox", as he was sometimes called) they learned a new way of fighting, called guerrilla attacks. This was where they hid and then would jump out and surprise the enemy. It seemed to work surprisingly well. The weather was hot and humid, and the mosquitoes here made the ones in Virginia seem like gnats. Hot weather really was the worst. It made everybody especially irritable, even happy-go-lucky Matthew. He had not really been himself, however, since about April. He seemed troubled, more so than a normal soldier. No one could figure out what was bugging him, though. Whenever he was asked, he just turned on his grin and said that, "nothing was wrong; he was alive, and that's all that mattered." So the rest of them shrugged it off and stopped prodding.

Meanwhile, Ben was dealing with his own troubles. His morale was fading, and he was starting to feel as though this war would never end. Daniel, he learned, felt similar. This came up one night as the two were hopelessly trying to fall asleep. "Another battle tomorrow," said Daniel. Ben just nodded. "You scared?" Daniel asked.

"I always am, a little," Ben answered. "Every time, there is that possibility of death."

"It happens to many every time," said Daniel. "Why should that make us any different?"

"Exactly."

They were silent. Then Ben added, "I'm honestly getting sick of all of this fighting. I'm tired of fearing for my life and ending others'." Daniel smiled sadly. "That's war," he said. "Tis the life of a soldier, so I've learned over the past nearly two years."

Ben whistled. "Has it only been two years? It feels like twenty."

"Aye," Daniel agreed. "God knows how much longer it will last. I guess all we can do is fight our hardest and stay as strong as we can." Ben just sighed.

The Carolina sun beat down on them as they stiffly marched off to battle. Ben could feel his spirits sink with every step. He didn't know why he felt so down; maybe it was just the war getting to him. But now was not the time to wallow in self misery. All too soon, the blast of British cannons were heard. Before the British were even in sight, everyone loaded his rifle as quickly as he possibly could. Ben glanced over at Daniel, whose eyes were wide and alert. He remembered what he had said about being strong. Lord knew he was trying. A minute later, a gun was heard, then another, and another. As usual, everyone slammed to the ground. The familiar line of redcoats loomed in front of them. They set off cannons, killing anyone who tried to get up and fight them. A few men inched their way up to their feet and immediately made their way to their own cannons, which were fired as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, the rest tried to fire their own guns from the ground. Jacob didn't leave Ben's side. He was so scared that he was practically on top of him. "Oh God," he whispered. "Why did I ever sign up for this?"

"Miserable, isn't it?" said Ben. "Ugh, I'm so hot that even my back is sweaty!" Jacob bit his lip. "Um-I hate to tell you this," he said sheepishly. "But that's not sweat." Ben's eyes widened when he realized what it was, and then closed. "Jacob," he said calmly. "If we ever get out of this alive... I'm going to kill you!" "I'm sorry!" exclaimed Jacob. "I've got a small bladder anyway, and it doesn't do well when I'm scared."

"I ought to put you in a diaper," snapped Ben. "Now quit wetting yourself _and me!_ and get on your feet!"

The battle continued into the afternoon. The heat only made it ten times worse. Once, Ben got too close and was nearly wiped out by a British cannonball. Luckily, he was just the right distance away from it, but it nearly gave him a heart attack. He didn't completely escape unscathed, either. His left ear had taken a pretty bad blow from it. Not on the outside, but the sound had been so loud that he had grabbed his ear in pain when it bounced off his eardrum. He really panicked when he realized that he couldn't hear out of it. "Did-did that just leave me deaf?" he thought. He was relieved a minute later when his hearing started to come back, yet the whole incident had shaken him up and made him jumpier than usual. He tried to take careful aim, but this time, for some reason, his heart was beating faster than a hummingbird's wings out of sheer terror. Dozens of men fell dead. Cannons destroyed limbs. Ben looked over at Luke, who kept a grim and serious countenance. He looked at Matthew, whose face was sweaty and looked scared but trying not to show it. He looked at Jacob, who was literally shaking as he took aim and fired. He heard gunshots and cries of the wounded. He saw Peter Zimmerman, the soldier who always distributed their mail and who had been a good friend to everyone, stumble over as he was shot in the stomach. He trembled for a moment, then was still. This was the last straw. Ben couldn't take it anymore. Though he knew the serious consequences, and that the act was the most cowardly thing one could do, he glanced around, then, making sure no one saw him, slipped away from the battlefield and into the nearby swampy forest.

He ran until he was sure he was far enough away, then slowed down to a cautious walk. He walked backwards to make sure that no one had seen him run away. He had seen the consequences, and he did not want to be caught and branded as a coward. What would his friends say? What would his parents say? What would Mr. Merriman say? "Should have thought of that before you ran away," said his conscience. He ignored it. He turned back around, and what he saw was more frightening than a whole tribe of Indians. His heart leapt into his throat. His stomach dropped to his feet. He blinked. Standing right in front of him was a British soldier, gun pointed straight at him. A small gasp escaped his lips. His first instinct was to point his own gun back, then he realized it wasn't loaded. "God damn it!" he thought. He cringed, waiting for the bullet to pierce some vital organ. It didn't come. He opened his eyes, and the soldier was frantically trying to load his rifle. This bought Ben some time. Faster than he had ever done before, he tried to load his own rifle before the other soldier did. He dropped the bullet. "No, not now," he pleaded. "Please, not now!"

The other man tried to pour in the gunpowder, but it went spilling everywhere. The two frantically tried to recover their missing ammunition when finally the man said, "I think you and I should probably sit down and have a talk, rebel." Ben nodded quickly. Both slowly sat down, not taking their eyes off each other. Finally, Ben asked, "How-how did you know I wasn't loaded?"

"I figured that if you were, you would have killed me on the spot," said the soldier. "I would have done the same to you, had I been loaded."

"Well, then I guess we both just got lucky," said Ben.

"What are you doing back here?" asked the man. "You were running away, weren't you?" Ben looked away, ashamed. "Don't feel bad," said the man. "So was I. The whole thing just got to be too much for me."

"Me too," Ben agreed. "But now I feel guilty." The soldier nodded. "How do you think we're going to get out of this?" he asked. Ben thought, then said, "Well, we could just stay out of sight until the battle is over, then one of us goes as the other's prisoner." The soldier narrowed his eyes. "And which one of us would that be?"

"Whichever side wins the battle," said Ben. "Fair?" He held out his hand. The soldier paused, then shook it. "Fair," he agreed.

"Good," said Ben. Suddenly famished, he reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out some hardtack. It was as hard as rock, but food was food. The soldier must have thought the same because he looked at it longingly, then looked away. Ben hesitated, then slowly offered him some. The man looked at him cautiously. "What, do you think I poisoned it or something?" Ben asked.

"Well," said the soldier. "We _are_ on opposite sides. Ever heard that we're supposed to hate each other?"

"Ever heard of southern hospitality?" Ben retorted. The soldier smiled and accepted the hardtack. "I'm much obliged," he said. Both ate in silence. Then he asked, "Where are you from, rebel?"

"Virginia," Ben answered. "Yorktown. You?"

"Liverpool," the soldier answered. Ben said nothing, then asked, "Why are you here, lobster back ?

The man frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you here?" Ben repeated. "Why can't you just let us have our independence and go back to England where you belong? Are the colonies really that important to you?"

The man laughed unkindly. "You think I want to be here?" he asked. "Boy, I've got a wife and three children back home who I would much rather be with right now than here with you. If it were up to me, I'd say to just give you rebels your damn independence; then we'll see if you can make it as a country or not. I don't see the point in fighting just to insure that your taxes will still go to us."

Ben was a bit taken aback. "Well, if you think we should just have our independence and move on, then why are you fighting to make sure that we don't get it?"

"Money," answered the soldier. "I've got nothing else left and need to feed my family. Tis not bad pay, so I figured that I had nothing else to lose." Ben was quiet. That would be awful if the only way to make an income was to risk your life on the battlefield, especially for a cause that you couldn't care less about. "It's only for the money?" Ben asked softly.

"Everything is about money," said the man. "This whole war is about money. Life is about money."

Ben was quiet again.

"Well," the soldier now said, lying down. "Might as well get some sleep as long as we're here." Ben nodded and lay down. As he started to drift off to sleep, the man asked, "What's your name, rebel?"

Ben opened his eyes. "Ben Davidson," he answered. "Yours?"

"Jack Hale," said the man, holding out his hand. Ben smiled, then rolled over and shook it.

He awoke a few hours later to the sound of marching in the distance. He stood up and got closer to investigate. Through the trees, he could make out a troop-his troop- marching back towards camp. He heard drumbeats and flutes, and singing. The flag was raised. They had won. Ben grinned and went back to Jack, who was still sound asleep. He nudged him with his rifle. Jack woke up, and his eyes grew big when he saw the gun pointed at him. He glared at Ben. "I should have known," he sneered. "I should have known not to trust an uncivilized Virginian rebel." Ben frowned. "What do you mean, redcoat?" he asked.

"You've got that thing pointed straight at me!" said Jack. "You loaded that thing while I was sleeping and now are going to kill me!"

Ben just stared at him, then pointed his rifle up and cocked the hammer. Nothing happened. "I may be an uncivilized Virginian rebel," he said. "But I am a man of my word."

Jack looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've learned to trust no one."

"That's all right," said Ben, helping him up. "I would have done the same thing. Now come on. You're my prisoner."

Jack frowned. "It's over?" he asked. "And what makes you so sure you won?"

"I saw my troop marching," said Ben. "If a raised flag and cheers of triumph doesn't mean victory, then I don't know what does."

Jack rolled his eyes, but held up his hands in surrender. "Very well," he said. "I surrender to you."

"Good," said Ben. Then, like a sergeant, he added, "Now march! Left! Right! Left! Right!"

Ben felt pretty pleased with himself. He had not only avoided being caught for running away, but he also picked up a prisoner of war. This impressed not only his friends, but the officers as well. True, he had to tell a couple of little white lies to avoid questioning such as why was he in the woods in the first place, but they bought it and let him off the hook. This raised his spirits significantly.

Over the next couple of months, more and more battles were won, making everyone excited. "We could win this!" they started to say, and more importantly, started to believe. They marched with a spring in their step. More supplies came. Occasionally, someone would get an idea to find an old house or barn and have a dance. They'd find some musicians and girls in the area and dance the night away. Overall, life improved. Battles were not so frightening anymore, for now they were more like little skirmishes, and they usually won them. Food became more abundant. More medicine was obtained. No one had a care in the world, and when Ben's twentieth birthday came, he could not think of a more carefree place to be, nor a better attitude to have.

His good morale didn't last, though. It was a bitterly cold winter, and food became scarce again. The carefree spirit that had brightened them a few months ago was now gone. The war was slipping back into British control. They were cold. They were hungry. And in February, something happened that completely killed any happiness Ben had left.

It was a cold night. It was snowy and windy and all around miserable. Ben was pretty sure his fingers were frostbitten. "Anyone want hot coffee?" asked John. "It's not very good, but it'll warm you up."

"I'll take some," said Luke.

"Me too," Ben agreed.

"Make that three," chimed in Daniel.

"Matthew?" asked John. "Do you want some?"

Matthew smiled weakly. "No thank you," he said.

"I'll take some," said Jacob. John poured him some, and he looked at it with disgust. "Now what's wrong?" asked Ben.

"It's _green_," said Jacob a little weakly.

"It's not _completely_ green," Daniel offered.

"Well, you'd better drink it," said Luke. "It's all we've got."

While Jacob choked down the thick coffee, Ben noticed that Matthew looked ill. "Are you all right?" he asked. Matthew smiled weakly. "Fit as a fiddle," he assured them. "Just a little tired."

"You should rest," said John. "It's been a long day."

"We all should," suggested Luke. "Everyone else is."

Ben lay down on the thin blanket that was his only protection against the snowy ground. He turned on his side, listening to John's heavy snoring. "I wonder how Grace puts up with that," he thought, drifting into a restless sleep.

The wake-up drumbeats came far too soon. Ben arose groggily with a stiff neck. "Perfect," he thought. Jacob slept on. "How did he get in the army?" asked Daniel. Ben shrugged, thus hurting his neck. "That just shows you how desperate they are for soldiers," he said. "That's why I've stuck around."

"Could you imagine if everyone enlisted for just one year?" said Luke. "We'd never win this war!" They all glanced at Jacob, who had murmured something about being full. "I'll take care of him," Daniel offered. He blew his signal whistle loud and shrill in his ear. This did the job. "What was that for?" asked Jacob sleepily.

"You've got to get up," said Luke. "We have to fight again."

Jacob rolled over. "But I don't want to," he whined.

"Too bad," said Ben sternly. "None of us do."

"By the way," said Daniel. "Has anyone seen Matthew?"

"He's in the hospital," said John, coming over to them. Everyone gasped. "The hospital?" asked Daniel. "Why?"

"He contracted small pox during the night," said John.

"Oh God," murmured Luke. A huge small pox epidemic had been spreading lately, and now it had found them. "He's very contagious," John went on. "It'd be best not to see him."

They paid John's warning no heed. A few days later, after having to retreat from the British, Ben and Daniel sneaked into the makeshift hospital tent. "Where's Matthew?" Daniel asked. Ben shrugged, then spotted the doctor. "Let's ask him," he suggested. They asked him, and he pointed to the cot in the corner. Matthew appeared to be sleeping. "Matthew?" said Ben softly. He didn't stir. "Matthew?" he tried again, shaking him. "Matthew! Wake up! Oh God, please wake up, Matthew!" Matthews eyes opened slowly, and he grinned. "Evenin', Ben," he said hoarsely. Ben frowned. "That's not funny," he said. "We thought you were dead."

"Not yet," said Matthew.

"How do you feel?" asked Daniel gently.

"I've been better," he answered nonchalantly. Ben felt his forehead. "God, are you hot," he remarked, brushing a stray hair out of Matthew's face. "You don't look too well either."

"Neither do you two," Matthew shot back with an impish grin. "If I were a girl who came across you, I'd run for the hills." Ben and Daniel both rolled their eyes. "Bet Rebecca would do the same if she saw _you_ now," teased Daniel. Matthew smiled and leaned back. "I can't wait to get well," he said. "Then I can go home and marry her. Finally, after all these years."

Ben smiled. "You do that," he said. "As long as you invite us to your wedding."

"Then we will be able to say,'we remember when...'," added Daniel. Matthew grinned again. "Who said anything about a wedding?" he asked. "I was just going to kidnap her in the middle of the night and elope." Ben just smiled and shook his head. Even miserable and ill with small pox, Matthew still had that sense of humor.

Over the next two days, Matthew took a turn for the worst. One day, John said, "I don't think he has much longer. If you want to see him again, go now."

Daniel couldn't; it would make him too upset. And Jacob couldn't stomach the sight of death. So that left Ben and Luke. Matthew was as white as a ghost when they got to him. "Matthew?" said Luke gently. "It's Luke." Matthew's eyes fluttered open. "Luke?" he asked.

"Aye," said Luke. "And Ben." Matthew's face looked pained. "Luke," he whispered. "Tell-tell Becky I feel poorly."

"I'll do that, Matthew," said Luke softly.

"Tell her-tell her that I love her," Matthew went on so quietly that Ben had to strain to hear (that cannon blast had, in fact, made him partially deaf in his left ear). "Tell her I love her and-and the baby." Ben and Luke glanced at each other. "Did he just say 'baby'?" asked Ben. Luke nodded gravely. "He did,"

he said. He turned back to Matthew. "What baby?" he asked a little shakily.

"Our baby," Matthew rasped. "She became pregnant the last time I was home and gave birth in September."

"Oh God," thought Ben. _That_ must have been why Matthew had been acting funny since April! He received word that Rebecca was carrying his child _out of wedlock!_ Luke smiled sadly. "We'll do that." Matthew turned to Ben. "Take care of Jacob," he said. "He needs you."

"I will," Ben promised.

"And promise me you'll-you'll," Matthew whispered.

"What?" asked Ben softly.

"Promise you'll name your first son after me," said Matthew hoarsely. Ben grasped his hand in his own. "I'll do that, Matthew," he promised. Matthew just smiled and closed his eyes.

He went home, but he never got to marry Rebecca. That night, with a sweet smile on his face, Matthew Holloway left the army hospital for his eternal home in Heaven. A solemness hung in the air the next morning. "And they had a baby," Ben thought miserably. Never would Matthew see an end to this terrible war. Never would he embrace Rebecca as his bride. Never would he see the child he had brought into the world grow up. Ben felt tears well in his eyes. He tried to brush them away, but it was no use. And so, for the first time in years, he buried his head in his knees and cried.

_Dear Felicity,_

_I pray that you are better than we are. Matthew died last night of small pox. Even worse, he left his sweetheart Rebecca with a newborn child. War is a tragic thing, Lissie. However, Luke says he will marry Rebecca when the war ends if she isn't already. He will take Matthew's place, though he has never met her. I find this rather admirable._

_We are cold here, and hungry. Everyone feels miserable, and we lose more men every day from both battle and disease. I'm starting to think, "what was I thinking?" back when I was fifteen. Speaking of which, by the time you get this, you will be fifteen, won't you? In regards to that, happy birthday. I hope I can be with you for your sixteenth next year._

_Be good, and say hello to everybody._

_-Ben_


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 7_

_Dear Ben,  
Well, you are officially no longer a teenager. Twenty whole years. That's impressive. Though I am only fifteen, I feel so much older. As you probably know, the capital has been moved to Richmond. Father finally came to his senses and fired David. I'm glad; he really was lazy and stupid, and Father caught him gambling at the tavern a couple months ago. He reeked of ale. This was when Father "let him go".  
I am so sick of these British soldiers in town! They hassle us, they barge into our homes, and they took all of Father's good tobacco! I had an unpleasant encounter with some a while back. They were what could be called flirting, but not in an innocent kind of way, if you know what I mean. If Father had not been there at the last second, well, let's just say it would not have ended well for me. I'm not allowed out of the house anymore without a male escort, and since you and David are both gone, that only leaves Father. I expect some sort of battle here soon.  
Elizabeth, of late, has been secretly seeing Caleb McClellan, the carpenter's son. Though they are young, they make a nice couple. The only problem is that he comes from a patriot family. His father even lost his leg in the army. This is why Caleb and his brother Zachary have taken over the shop with Mr. McClellan's supervision. Caleb is a year younger than you; he is not yet nineteen. Soon he will take over the business and plans to buy a house of his own. Mr. and Mrs. Cole (Mr. Cole came back in November) do not approve of the match at all. Does Elizabeth care? No, she still sneaks out to see him. I think it's rather silly, personally, but I guess that just shows how much I know about love. I'm forever alone.  
Maybe, Ben, just maybe this war will end. I pray everyday for your safe return. Mother and Father send their love.  
-Felicity_

By October 1780, close to Ben's twenty-first birthday, the year had been quite eventful. The capital of Virginia moved to Richmond, and just as things were looking up for the Patriot army, Benedict Arnold gave West Point over to the British. This angered everybody, and even worse, the traitor escaped when it was found out. He and his soldiers then destructively raided throughout Virginia. John thought he should be hanged. Ben only hoped that his parents and the Merrimans would be all right. Now, some nine hundred frontier fighters had defeated a much larger force of British troops in South Carolina. Meanwhile, Ben and his troop were in Georgia, fighting off smaller British troops. This is where Luke lost his arm. He said the operation nearly made him pass out, but he lived and took it like a man. "Didn't it hurt?" asked wide-eyed Jacob as they gathered around his cot. Luke grinned. "Worst pain of my life," he said proudly. "But I lived to tell about it."  
"When are you going home?" asked Daniel.  
"In two days," Luke replied. "I hope Rebecca doesn't mind a cripple." Over the past year, ever since Matthew died, Luke and Rebecca had corresponded a few times, and just two months ago, he asked her to marry him. Though they had never met in person, she accepted. Ben privately thought that while it was a very noble thing of Luke to do, it was no way to start a marriage, but who was he to judge? Besides, Rebecca's little son needed a father.

Two more months went by, and under General Nathaniel Green, they marched back into South Carolina. It seemed again that they were starting to have a chance against the British. This raised their morale again, and they fought and fought and fought. Of Ben's closest friends, only John, Daniel, and Jacob remained. Now that Matthew was gone, Ben kept his promise and kept a close eye on Jacob. Lord knew the boy needed it, too.

That Christmas, Daniel brought Ben home to stay with him and his family for the holiday. They lived on a small farm a few miles outside of Richmond. The house was small, and the family was big, but Ben liked it. It had a cozy, loving atmosphere to it. The first person he met was Daniel's younger sister, Clara. She was working outside in the cold when they arrived. "Clara!" Daniel called. "Better get inside before you catch pneumonia!" Clara turned and frowned, then smiled when she saw that it was her brother. "Danny!" she cried, running to him and hugging him tightly. "Danny, you're home!" Daniel kissed her cheek. "How are you, Claire?" he asked. "I swear, you get taller and prettier every time I see you!"  
"I'm taller?" she laughed. "You, Daniel, are a regular giant!" He just grinned at her, then turning to Ben, who had been standing off to the side quietly, said, "Clara, I'd like you to meet my friend Ben Davidson. He's staying for Christmas." Clara smiled at him. "Tis a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Davidson," she said. "Daniel has said much about you."  
"He hasn't mentioned you at all," said Ben. "But it's nice to meet you too, Miss Thomas. And my name is Ben; Mr. Davidson makes me sound like my father."  
Clara smiled again. "Very well," she agreed. "But then you must call me Clara, not Miss Thomas."  
"Fine," he said with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, _Clara_."

Over the next week, Ben took a liking to Clara. She had blonde curly hair and brown eyes, and she had a kind face and cheery disposition. He learned that she was eighteen and not courting (though her parents were trying suitor after suitor), and a lover of horses, which was something they had in common. She was left-handed, like he was, and she loved poetry, but he had never really cared for it. She was smart and funny, but was polite and poised at the same time. She was also on the shy side, like he was. She was the first girl in a long time that he had really felt an attraction to. When she was around, he felt his palms sweat, and he became tongue-tied. Daniel, of course, picked up on this, and naturally made fun of him for it. "You're in _lo-o-ove!_" he would mutter under his breath. "I am not!" Ben protested. "It's just hot in here." Daniel grinned. "Sure it is," he said. At any mealtime, he always made sure that his sister was next to Ben, just to make him anxious. He would force him to ask her if she needed any help with anything. Once, he even made him accidentally walk in on her when she was bathing. That was an episode Ben would rather not repeat, but luckily, Clara didn't hold it against him.

Everyone in Daniel's family liked Ben. He helped out wherever he could, which went anywhere from helping Mr. Thomas and the older boys on the farm to playing with the little ones. "You're good with children," remarked Clara as he lay on the floor playing checkers with the youngest son, Peter, who was seven. He looked up and smiled. "Am I?" he asked. She nodded. "Do you have any siblings?"  
"I have an older sister," he replied. "And a younger brother, but he is sixteen."  
"Well, for someone who doesn't have much experience with little ones," she said. "You're surprisingly good with them."  
"Thank you," he said. "But I wouldn't say that I have _no_ experience. When I was an apprentice in Williamsburg, my master had four children, ranging from ages two to twelve. Of course, they've grown up some since I left for war."  
"Especially the two-year-old," she said. "You won't even recognize him when you see them again."  
"Her," he corrected.  
She smiled. "Fine, _her_." The clock struck nine. "My goodness, Peter, you have to get to bed!" she exclaimed. "Come along, now. Say good night."  
"Good night, Mr. Davidson," said Peter. Ben smiled at the child's forced formality. "Good night, Peter," he said. Clara took him upstairs, then returned a moment later. She sat on the sofa next to him a bit awkwardly and resumed her stitching. Ben looked over. "What is that going to be?" he asked.  
"A bluebird," she answered. "I'm making a quilt for Daniel's bed for when he comes home for good. Don't tell him, though. I want him to be surprised."  
"I won't," Ben promised. Then, after an awkward silence, he asked, "Do you enjoy sewing?"  
"As long as it turns out to _be_ something," she replied. "Like a quilt or a new dress. Just plain mending is tedious. But regular sewing relaxes me, especially on a cold winter evening when there is nothing else to do."  
"Daniel and I had to learn to mend in the army," he said. "Unless we wanted to live with a bunch of holes and tears in our clothes." She smiled as though she found the idea of men sewing funny, then said, "I suppose you would have to learn to sew, wouldn't you? I never thought about that.  
"I'm not going to tell Felicity that, though," he said. "She's my master's oldest daughter, by the way. She would start making me do all of her mending for her."  
Clara laughed. "Not much of a seamstress, is she?"  
Ben smiled and shook his head. "Nor a cook, nor a good cleaner, nor anything that has to do with domestic abilities, really. She'd rather work in her father's store with me, or better yet, just trade places with me."  
Daniel then came into the room. "Who now?" he asked.  
"Felicity," Ben replied. "She probably won't make the world's best housewife someday, but I'm sure her husband will love her anyway. She's got this spunky way about her that's somehow endearing."  
Clara smiled a tight smile. "From the way it sounds, I'd say that you have a fancy for her."  
Ben raised an eyebrow. "Clara," he said. "She's fifteen."  
Daniel started laughing, and Clara smiled and blushed. "Well, then never mind," she said.  
"You talk about her a lot," remarked Daniel. "You miss her?"  
"Of course," said Ben. "I miss all of them. Felicity and her siblings have become the younger siblings I never had."  
Clara just smiled. Then she said, "I'll bet you're tired. I'll go get your bed ready." She left the room, and it was just Ben and Daniel. They were quiet for a moment, then Daniel sang, "She  
_li-i-ikes_ you!"  
"You think so?" asked Ben nonchalantly (or so he hoped).  
Daniel nodded. "Why else would she give up her bed for you and share with Susan?" Susan was his other sister, who was fifteen. "That's her room?" Ben asked. "I didn't mean to put her out."  
"No, you didn't," Daniel assured him. "She offered the minute she laid eyes on you."  
Ben felt his cheeks turn pink with pleasure. "Well, I appreciate it," was all he said. Then he added, "I'm-um-going to see if she needs any help."  
"Sure you are," teased Daniel.  
Ben rolled his eyes. "Good night, Daniel."  
"By the way," Daniel called. "If she's not down in fifteen minutes, I'm coming up there!"  
"Very funny!" Ben called back.

He stood in the doorway as Clara pulled the covers back. "It was very kind of you to do all this," he said. "I really would have been fine sleeping on the sofa." She turned and smiled. "You need a bed," she said. "Heaven knows the last time you slept in one."  
"Thank you," he said, coming farther into the room. "I appreciate it."  
"Tis no trouble," she assured him. "After what you've been through, you deserve it." He noticed the two pillows, side by side, as if expecting another person. He looked at Clara curiously. She glanced down, then quickly stacked one on top of the other. "I'm sorry," she said. "Force of habit." They were silent for a moment. Then she said, "You haven't told me much about yourself."  
"Well, there's not much to tell," he said. "I'm twenty-one years old, I'm from Yorktown, I've been in the army for three years, and when the war ends I have to go to Williamsburg and finish out my apprenticeship with a storekeeper. I'm not married, and I plan on owning my own store one day."  
"Will-will you marry when you go home?" she asked. He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "It's never been a big dream of mine."  
"That's too bad," she said. "Something tells me that you would make some lucky girl an excellent husband." He blushed and looked at his feet. Clara was silent. Then she said, "I'll give you some privacy and let you change. Call me if you need me."  
"Thank you," he said. "Good night."

Christmas came a few days later. That morning, when he woke up, instead of getting up and getting dressed, he let his head roll back in bed and reflected on the past three years. Three years ago, he was at that awful Valley Forge. How young he had been back then, only eighteen! He hadn't even seen combat yet. He now smiled to himself. Oh, to be young and innocent. Two years ago, his sister had been married. Had it already been two years? It seemed like just yesterday he had had that awkward encounter with Bessie Sue. He laughed to himself. He wondered what ever became of her. A year ago, not a particularly exciting Christmas. It was spent in camp, and while it was nice enough with people singing carols around the fire and drinking coffee, it didn't compare to home. Two months later, they lost Matthew. Ben still missed him and thought about him everyday. He had been miserable when Matthew died, so miserable that he could barely eat or sleep. He didn't talk much until about April, when the spring weather cheered him up. The dark days following Matthew's death were the hardest, and it took all the willpower he had not to cry; that would ruin his pride. And Ben Davidson was _not_ a crier. But that was nearly a year ago; this was a happy time. He was safe and warm in a home, not his own, but a home with good, friendly people (and a pretty girl, though he would never tell her or Daniel that). Maybe, just maybe, next Christmas he would be home for good. That would be a Christmas miracle.

That morning, after a big breakfast, everybody went to church. It was a small little country church, a few miles away, with a small congregation of farmers and others who didn't live close enough to town to go to the big church every Sunday. It didn't have many pews, nor did it have an organ, but Ben liked it. It was a pretty little white church with stained glass windows, and it had a cozy and close-knit atmosphere. Everybody knew everybody else, and everybody was glad to see Daniel. They received Ben with open arms as well, being that he was Daniel's friend and also in the army. The service was lovely. A small choir sang, and the minister read from the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (it was then that Ben realized that some of his closest friends were named after the gospels). The church was decorated with candles and holly, and it was all around a beautiful service. It was much better than being in an army camp, that was darn sure.

That afternoon, Mrs. Thomas and her daughters prepared a big Christmas dinner. They worked all afternoon, and their work paid off in the end. There wasn't as much food as there was back home because the Thomases were poor and the war forced people to cut back on their rations, but it was still delicious. There was roast beef and potatoes and baked apples and cranberries, then pumpkin and apple pie for dessert. There was plenty of everything, and for the first time in a long time, Ben felt full afterwards. Friends and relatives dropped by to say merry Christmas, and in the evening, Mr. Thomas and some of the neighbors brought out their fiddles and started playing while everyone else danced. Ben, having two left feet, sat out and watched, until Clara urged him to dance. "I'll only step on your toes," he warned her, but she just laughed and grabbed his hands. "And I will on yours," she said. "Now come on!"  
"All right," he finally agreed. "But don't say I didn't warn you." She took his hands, and the two started dancing. There were quite a few "Ouch!"s and "I'm sorry!"s from both of them, but neither minded. Dancing, dare he say it? was actually fun, so long as it wasn't some stuffy waltz or minuet. Soon the song ended, and Clara sighed contently as Ben twirled her one last time. "That was fun," she breathed.  
"Aye," he agreed, also out of breath.  
"Are your feet all right?" she asked. "I know I stepped on them quite a few times."  
"They're fine," he said. "Yours?"  
"Fine," she assured him. She then looked up, then back at him and blushed. "What?" he asked. She smiled shyly and pointed up. He looked up, then back at her and smiled. "Well," he said. "I guess I can't argue with mistletoe, can I?"  
"No," she giggled. "I mean, no, Mr. Davidson, you cannot. Tis tradition, after all."  
"And one can't break Christmas traditions," he said. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and gently kissed her. Their lips didn't meet for very long, just for a second or so, but it made his heart pound and his hands grow sweaty. Clara was the one to draw away first. Her face was pink when she did. She said nothing, just smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then she broke the spell by saying, "We should probably get back to the others."  
"Probably," he said softly. She turned to leave, then turned back to him. "I'm sorry, Ben," she said. "I know I'm being far too bold, but please, let me kiss you again." His heart pounded again. He just nodded stupidly. "All right," he whispered. And so they kissed again.

Soon Christmas was over, and then New Year's, and then Daniel and Ben had to go back. Ben was going to miss Clara. She was the first girl he had kissed since Diana that he had actually enjoyed. "Take care of yourself," she said right before they left. "I will," he promised. "You do the same." She nodded, then asked, "Will you ever come back here?"  
"Maybe," he said. She touched his hand. "Do," she murmured. "It's important to me."

_Dear Felicity,  
I hope all of you had a merry Christmas and a happy new year. Daniel brought me home for the holiday. He lives on a farm outside of Richmond. His sister was lovely. Her name was Clara. I told her about you. She laughed when I said that you weren't much of a seamstress. I think you would like her, though. She loves horses too.  
I'm sorry you had a bad encounter with some British soldiers. Thank God they didn't hurt you. If I would have been there, I would have punched them in the nose for you. Well, maybe not, but I definitely would have protected you somehow.  
Things are starting to look up here. It seems like we may have a possible chance. Thank God, too. In the winter, there's snow. In the summer, there's mosquitoes. I must have scratched myself raw from their bites! Oh, and British fire year round is no help either. I'm honestly sick of fighting, and I'm sick of death. Luke lost his arm back in October, but he lived and is home. He and Rebecca are now planning a wedding. I wish I could be there to see it.  
As for Elizabeth and Caleb, well, if it's real (and I'm not saying it is because let's face it: you girls are fifteen!), everything will fall into place. Fifteen year olds often think they are in love, when really, they have no idea what love is. And you, Lissie, you will __**not**__ die an old spinster. Some unsuspecting man out there doesn't know what he's in for!  
I'd say let's hope for peace in 1781, but we've been saying that for years now and it's never come. I don't mean to be pessimistic, but_ _why should this year be any different? Anyway, take care of yourself. Watch out for redcoats, and I'll do the same.  
-Ben_


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 8_

_Dear Ben,  
Oh, how do I even begin? We are living in a world of darkness and terror. Battles have broken out here in Williamsburg. Many are not too far away from us. We hide in the cellar for hours, even days sometimes. I worry about Father when he is away. With the fighting here, we never know if he will return. The British ransacked the store for supplies, but at least they didn't hurt anybody...yet. Many innocent civilians have lost their houses or have been killed. The town is filled with smoke and debris. Food is hard to come by, and one can forget about new clothes. Tis not uncommon to pass by a house you passed by everyday and see it destroyed. Tis also not uncommon to walk by what used to be a public square or something and see hundreds of bloody, dead soldiers. Of course, __**you**__ see that all the time, so it probably doesn't bother you as much, but it bothers me. The palace has become a hospital. I hate to think of that once splendid, grand place where Elizabeth and I went to the dance lesson, the one with the chandeliers and large portraits and beautiful, elegant rooms and even more beautiful gardens (the American version of the palace of Versailles, I guess you could say) now filled with cots and dying soldiers. A place of laughter and aloofness has become a place of suffering and death. Oh Ben, will this ever end? For a sixteen year old girl, I feel this is making me old before my time. Do you ever feel that way?  
On a happier note, Caleb and Elizabeth are engaged to be married! He asked her on her sixteenth birthday, and she accepted. There is more to it than that, though. You see, they courted in secret, even after the Coles strictly forbid her from seeing him again. Meanwhile, Elizabeth changed her mind in politics. She started to think that perhaps we Patriots were right; it __**is**__ time to break away from England. Then her parents decided to move back to England. They said that it would be safer there, and they could be with Annabelle. Besides, it would do no good to stay in a country that didn't support their king, would it? Elizabeth refused to go, and that is when she broke the news that she had changed her mind, and more importantly, that Caleb had asked her to marry him. Well, you can imagine her parents' reaction to that! They said no, absolutely not, but Elizabeth stood up for herself and held her ground. She said that she would stay here and marry Caleb; they could do whatever they wanted. Soon, they realized they had no choice. They left for England, leaving their youngest daughter behind. She is staying with us now until she and Caleb get married, which will be October nineteenth. 'Twas hard on her parents to leave without her, and it will be hard for her to get married without her family being there, but she chose love over politics. I think this was very brave of her; I don't know if I could say goodbye to my family forever for a man I loved.  
Well, I've taken enough of your time. Don't lose hope; I won't if you won't. I miss you more than I can say.  
-Felicity_

It was mid October of 1781. Throughout the year, battles were won, and battles were lost. Ben was worried about the Merrimans back in Williamsburg with some of the fighting there, especially from what Felicity had said in her letter months earlier. He wished he were there; it might have made him feel as though he were protecting them. Moreover, maybe he would have even been able to see them. But no such luck.

In May, according to Daniel, Clara had gotten married. This really didn't upset Ben as Daniel thought it might have. Ben was never serious about Clara; she was what Felicity would call "a fling". Truthfully, he had never been serious about anyone. He had felt an initial attraction for a couple of girls over his twenty-one (almost twenty-two) years, but never that big, somewhat scary word called love. He didn't think he had it in him to genuinely love a woman, and really, that was just fine with him. It saved him a lot of unnecessary trouble, the way he looked at it.  
Not too long ago, the English lord Cornwallis (that was just fun to say because it sounded so ridiculous, especially in a hoity-toity British accent) had moved his main army to none other than Yorktown itself, which was where Ben and his troop were, fighting them off. While he worried about his family, being in his hometown gave Ben that sense of protection over them, which made him feel important and noble. Like a brave knight risking his life to protect his family. He liked this analogy. Anyway, by late summer, the British only controlled Charles Town, South Carolina, and Savannah, Georgia. Since Yorktown was on a peninsula, this meant that not only were the British facing the Americans on land, but also the French at sea. Ben thought this extremely foolish on Cornwallis' part, but knowing the British, they'd get out of it somehow or other.

It was a cool, clear evening. Another battle the next day. This battle had been going on for days now, neither side giving up. "They're surrounded either way," said John as they ate supper around the fire. "If I were Cornwallis, I'd just quit."  
"He will figure out a way," said Ben gloomily. "I just wish one side would retreat already! I'm tired of worrying about my family's safety."  
"I forgot that you're from here," said John. "You don't even get nervous before battle anymore, do you?"  
Ben shrugged. "Not as much as I used to," he said. "I figure I've made it this far; what should make any other battle different?"  
"Never know," said John. "You could lose a limb like Luke." Ben shuddered. In his opinion, amputation was scarier than death itself. It was something he did _not_ want to have to go through. "I doubt it," he said. "Luke just wasn't paying attention; _I_ do. I do that, and I'll be fine." John smiled a little. "Don't get too big for your britches, Davidson," he warned. "Only God Himself knows what will become of you." Ben just rolled his eyes. "God has nothing to do with it," he scoffed. "I can make sure of my own fate." John shook his head as if to say, "You silly, silly boy." "I'd like to see what you say at the Day of Judgment," he half-joked. "I don't think God appreciates arrogance."  
"I'm not arrogant," Ben argued. "I can just look out for myself, is all." John just smiled and shook his head. "I wouldn't test The Lord if I were you," he said. "He can do whatever He likes with you, which includes making sure you get hit with a British bayonet and dying."  
"Aren't you an encouraging friend," said Ben sarcastically. John held up his hands. "I'm just warning you of the consequences," he said. "For thinking you know everything. I'm just saying that your fate is up to God, and He can do to you whatever He feels you deserve."  
"John?"  
"What?"  
"You're full of it."

The next day was a clear, crisp October day. They were in combat (what else was new?). Men fell on both sides, lots of blood shed. To Ben, this was just another aspect of daily life. He didn't get scared anymore. "If I die," he reasoned. "It will give me an excuse to get out of here." After all, he had survived through far worse over the course of four years. What would be any different of some insignificant battle? As long as he paid attention, he would be fine. Luck nor God Himself had anything to do with it, no matter what John said. Ben could look out for himself, and this alone would protect him.

The battle went on late into the afternoon. Gunshots and cannons rang in his ears. While taking aim and firing, his mind drifted to Felicity, of all people. She was nearly sixteen and a half now. He wondered if she was engaged by now. It had been a while since he had heard from her; anything could have happened. Perhaps her parents found a nice suitor for her, or maybe she even found someone on her own. It was hard to imagine Felicity as a young lady, ready to be courted and married. Hand to hand combat proceeded, and Ben mindlessly tried to fight off the other man. In a way, continued his train of thought, he didn't really want to see how much Felicity had grown. He didn't want to see a proper young lady; he wanted to see the spunky little girl he had left four years ago. "Maybe she still will be," he thought. "This _is_ Felicity, after all." He now started to gain control over the other soldier and fight him off. He whipped out his pocketknife in defense, and as it neared the other soldier's chest, the man quickly gained the upper hand and rammed him...well, between the legs. Ben winced in pain and crumpled in a heap to the ground. "_That_ hurt," he thought. He tried to stand back up when suddenly, a sharp pain- sharper than the one before-shot through his right arm. It felt like fire was spreading. He grabbed his arm, and his hand became stained with blood. He realized it was his own, and that was when the world went black.  
...He was sixteen again. He stood behind the counter of Mr. Merriman's store, helping to close up for the night. Felicity sat on top of the counter, begging for a piece of rock candy. He, in turn, taunted her by holding it above his head where she couldn't reach it. She kept trying, yet he wouldn't let her. "Ben, _please_," she begged between laughs. He grinned. "I told you," he teased. "Only if you can get it." She reached higher, and she fell, bringing him down with her. She wrestled it out of his hand and popped it in her mouth triumphantly. "I told you I could get it," she said...

Ben's eyes now fluttered open. He was on his back, staring up at a canvas ceiling. Flies flitted back and forth. He realized he was lying on a cot, not on the ground. He heard moans of pain around him. Then he noticed a woman by his side. For a second, he honestly thought it was Felicity. How-what?However, when she spoke, the voice wasn't right. "Good," she said with a small smile. That smile seemed awfully familiar. "You're awake. Can you tell me your name?"  
"Benjamin Davidson," he whispered hoarsely. "How old are you?" she asked. "Twenty-one," he answered. "Almost twenty-two."  
"And when will you be twenty-two?"  
"On the fifteenth."  
"Can you tell me where you are from?"  
"Here-in Yorktown." He knew those brown eyes somewhere. "Well, no memory problems," she said cheerfully. "That's good."  
"Wait," he said. "Who are you? And where am I?" Her smile fell. "In the hospital," she explained. "I'm one of the nurses. Well, one of two, really." There was something in her voice, something about her demeanor... "Diana?" he whispered. She smiled again. "Tis good to see you again, Ben," she said. "Even in this state." He frowned. "What do you mean, 'even in this state'?" he asked. "What happened to me?" Her smile dropped again. "You don't remember anything, do you?" she asked softly. He racked his brain trying to remember. "No," he finally admitted. "I've no idea why I'm here." She sighed. "Long story short," she said. "You were shot in your right arm." Ben briefly recalled a sensation of pain in his arm. "Tis only a scratch," he said weakly. She laughed without humor. "Do you know how many times I've heard that line used?" she said. "Anyway, you were trying to fight off a British soldier, he kicked you in the...between the legs, then before you could get back up, he shot you in the arm. You passed out from the pain, and when you fell, you must have hit your head on a log or something because you were unconscious for a day. It was your friend Jacob, I think? who got you here. Had it not been for him, that man would have finished you off faster than you used to finish off Christmas dinner." Ben frowned. "Jacob?" he asked. "Jacob saved my life?"  
"For now," she said. He shook his head. He must be dreaming. Jacob, weak, scrawny little Jacob saved his life. At least so said Diana. And what was she doing here? He _must_ be dreaming if Diana was right beside him. "Your head is fine," she added. "I don't know about-um-other vital parts, but it's your arm they are most concerned about."  
"Will-will it have to be amputated?" he asked nervously. Diana's face was grim. "Most likely," she replied. "There's a small chance the doctor can get it healed because he got the bullet out pretty quickly, but the wound is deep and most likely already infected." Ben felt his heart drop to his stomach. He just closed his eyes. "The next few days will be critical," she added. "And with the conditions what they are, the odds aren't exactly in your favor." He said nothing. Then the man next to him cried, "Water!"  
"It's coming, sir," said Diana. To Ben, she said, "You just rest. The doctor should get around to you tomorrow morning." Then she added, "I'm very sorry, Ben. I hate to see something like this happen to you." He just shook his head sadly. Then, changing the subject, he asked, "How did you get to be a nurse anyway? I thought they didn't take women."  
"When my husband was killed in action," she said. "I didn't want to sit around and do nothing for my country. So I volunteered. They were pretty desperate, which is why they took me."  
"There are other ways to help with the war effort," he pointed out. "Less dangerous ways."  
"I want to physically help people," she said. "Not just sew a bunch of shirts."  
"So instead," he said. "You get to change disgusting, bloody bandages, feed dying men, and wash them."  
"Yes, I suppose that sums it up," she agreed. "Diana!" he said. "You have to actually see all of these men _without clothes on?!_ You're a lady!" She shrugged. "They need help," she said simply. "And you get used to it." When he just gaped at her, she laughed and said, "I didn't say I enjoy it, Ben. And don't forget, you're one of those men now as well."  
"Then I intend to get out of here as fast as I can," he said. Then he added, "I'm sorry about your husband. I didn't know you married."  
"One of Father's friends," she said. "Two years after we moved to Maryland. He died last year."  
"I'm sorry," he said again.  
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "But now, I feel as though I can just start all over."

Over the next few hours, Ben slipped in and out of consciousness. Though there were many other soldiers to tend to, Diana gave him the most attention. The next morning, the surgeon got around to him. He looked at Ben's arm and frowned. "What is it?" asked Diana (Ben only half heard this because he was still half asleep). "I might," said the doctor slowly, looking at his arm again. "I might be able to save his arm." Ben felt Diana's soft hand on his forehead. "How?" she asked.  
"It's risky," said the doctor. "But I could try to burn out the wound so the healthy tissue can heal." This woke Ben up. "What?" he asked sleepily. "There are no guarantees," the doctor went on. "If it doesn't work, or the littlest thing goes wrong, you'll end up losing the arm completely. It's all I can do if you want to try to keep it, though."  
"Tis better than amputation," Diana offered. "It could lead to that, but if it doesn't..."  
"I know," said Ben, though he really wasn't crazy about the idea. The surgeon turned to Diana. "You give everyone their breakfast,"he said. "I'll tend to him."  
"Yes sir," she agreed. She took Ben's good hand. "Everything will be fine," she assured him. "I'll be back when it's over."

The pain of the operation was what Ben expected times ten thousand. As the hot metal touched his arm, he tried his absolute hardest not to scream, but a cry or two escaped his lips a few times. "Are you all right?" the doctor would ask every now and then, and Ben would nod weakly. Too soon, however, the pain got to be too much for him, and he fainted for a few minutes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor bandaged it up. "There," he said. "It will be sore for a while, and it may never be the same, but it will heal. Now our main concern is getting that fever down."  
"Fever?" Ben thought. "Just perfect." He then fell into a deep, deep sleep.

When he awoke, the only light was coming from a few lanterns. He had a throbbing headache, and his arm hurt like crazy. Diana was tending to the man next to him, then she saw that he was awake. "Just a minute," she said. She gave the man some more water, then sat next to Ben. "How did it go?" she asked. He closed his eyes again. "I've never been in so much pain," he said. "And it still hurts, but at least it's still here." She felt his forehead. "Your fever is what worries me," she said. "It could be the death of you. But when the fighting moves away from here, they will send you home. You'll be better off there."  
"_Home_ home?" he asked. "Or Williamsburg?"  
"Here," she said. "Less travel, and I think it would be better for now if you were with your parents." Both were quiet. Then Ben asked, "How did I get a fever on top of all this?"  
"It happens all the time when you're shot," she said. "Your body gets so weak that it's extremely vulnerable to any diseases floating around, and especially here, that's not uncommon. Add that on to a post-operative fever, and you've got a recipe for disaster."  
"So what you're saying," he clarified. "Is that I'm dying."  
"To be blunt, yes," she said. "You may live, and you will have a much better chance at home, but right now, like I said before, the odds aren't exactly in your favor." He sighed and lay back. They were silent again. Then Diana asked, "Do you know what today is?" Ben racked his brain, but he hadn't a clue. "No," he admitted. She smiled a little. "It's the fifteenth," she said. "You're twenty-two now." He smiled wearily. "Only twenty-two?" he asked. "I feel sixty."  
"This will probably be the worst birthday you will ever have," she remarked. He just nodded. "If everything goes well," she went on. "You should be able to go home in a few days, depending on how much longer this battle lasts."  
"It's been going on for a few days now," he said. "I don't imagine it will last too much longer." Diana touched his face gingerly. "In the meantime," she said. "You just rest. You need your strength."

Ben felt terrible the next day, but the day after that, he felt slightly better. That evening, John, Daniel, and Jacob saw him. "Well, Davidson," said John. "If one of us had to be shot, my money would have been on Jacob."  
"Hey!" Jacob protested. Ben smiled. "He's gotten much better in the last few years," he said. "Really, it was my own fault. I wasn't paying attention." He waited for John to make some remark regarding their conversation a few nights earlier, but he said nothing. "That's fairly easy to believe," teased Diana, who was helping to feed the man to his left. "You always were clueless as a teenager."  
"And you were hoity-toity," he shot back with a grin. She shrugged. "You liked me anyway," she said, making the other snicker. Ben just rolled his eyes. Then he asked, "Any luck out there?" They all shook their heads. "Sometimes I think this war will never end," said John. "I think even General Washington is getting discouraged. Maybe it would be better if we just surrendered."  
"I don't know," said Jacob. "We may have a chance. I mean, they _are_ pretty much surrounded."  
"They'll figure a way out of it somehow," muttered Daniel.  
"I'm more than ready to go home," said John. "I miss Grace more than I can say."  
"You're lucky, Ben," said Daniel. "You get to go home soon."  
"Only after the fighting moves," Ben said. "Right now, it's too risky."  
"You could go to Williamsburg," suggested Jacob. Ben shook his head. "Travel isn't a good idea," he said. "Besides, it would be better if I were with my parents when I die."  
"Ben," said Daniel softly, but he just shook his head again. "It's all right," he said. No one spoke. Then Diana said, "All right, boys, out. He needs to rest, and so do all of you, for that matter." They all said good night and filed out. Daniel was the last one. He looked at Diana, then Ben, then did a quirky thing with his eyebrows that said, "She's a keeper." Ben grinned, and Daniel left. He turned to Diana. "I think Daniel likes you," he said as she started to change the bandages on his arm. She smiled a little. "Well, he won't get very far with that beard of his," she said. "I find it revolting."  
"He thinks it looks distinguished."  
"He looks like a ruffian."  
Ben grinned. "So you would find me revolting if I had facial hair?" he asked. She looked up. "What do you mean 'if'?" she teased. He frowned, and his hand flew to his cheek. "Relax," she said. "Tis only a shadow. And I don't know. You're different."  
"How?" he asked.  
"I-I don't know," she said. "You're just...you." Her fingers brushed the wound on his arm. He winced. "Did that hurt?" she asked. "Would I have winced if it didn't?" he retorted. She just smiled and put some water on it, then wrapped it back up. Then she brought water to his parched lips. "Drink," she ordered. "You need it." He obeyed, and she felt his forehead. She frowned and said, "I hate to see you like this. It scares me."  
"You're not the one dying," he pointed out. She laid her hand on his hot cheek, and his heart started to flutter. "Oh no," he thought, recognizing that feeling. "No no no, not with her!"  
"Don't talk like that," she said softly. "You're not going to die. You're going to die many, many years from now, and old, old man, not here. You'll get well, you'll go home, you'll get married, and you'll make lots of babies, who will make their own babies, and you'll tell them about 'back in the army' days."  
"But-but you said-," he stammered. She shook her head. "I know what I said," she said. "And now I know that as sick as you may be, you're not going to die here. If you did, I don't think I'd be able to live with myself."  
"Di," he started to say, but she cut him off by saying, "You were my first real love, Ben, and I do care about you. That's why I want to get you well, and I would hate myself forever if something happened to you." He was silent. She cared about him? Even this way? He didn't know what to say. "It's not your fault," he finally said quietly. "Tis my own."  
"Oh Ben," she whispered and laid her head on his. He closed his eyes as his hands grew sweaty and his heart pounded faster and faster. This was even worse than when Clara kissed him. "It could have happened to anybody."  
"It's not just that," he said. "I-I scoffed at God, saying that I could make sure of my own fate and that I could look out for myself without Him, and now I'm getting my punishment." Diana was silent, then said, "You could look at it that way. Or you could look at this as mercy and forgiveness."  
"How?" he asked.  
"You could have lost that arm," she pointed out. "But you didn't. You could have been killed instantly in battle. But you weren't. You could be lying here with a much worse fever, moments from death. But you're not. You're getting better, and soon you will be able to go home. That, I think, is a Godsend. 'A pack of blessings lie upon thy back'." Ben said nothing again. She sat up. "You should rest," she said. "You need it."  
"You look as though you do too," he said. She shook her head. "I'm fine," she assured him. He frowned. "You've got dark circles under your eyes, Diana," he said. "When was the last time you got any sleep?"  
"Two nights ago," she answered. "Ever since I've been looking after you."  
"Di!" he exclaimed. "You've got to rest! You'll make yourself sick if you don't!" A part of him, a sneaky part, wanted to scoot over and give her room in the bed, but he knew how wrong, how oh so very wrong that was. They weren't married, and besides, there were other people around! "Promise me you'll get some sleep tonight?"  
"I promise," she agreed with a smile. "But only for you."

Ben's health improved a little over the course of two days. The date was October nineteenth, 1781. This day, he remembered from Felicity's letter, was the day that Elizabeth and Caleb were to be married. He honestly wished nothing but the best for them. The day was sunny and warm for the month. Somehow, Diana convinced him to stand up and try to walk. He was a little shaky when he stood, and he felt dizzy, but that was because he had been bedridden for days now. He had to lean on Diana for a bit, but soon he was able to walk on his own. When he lay back down, she said, "You're still a little sick, but you're well enough to go home when the time comes."  
"Thank God," he sighed with relief. "I'm more than ready to get out of here." Diana stroked his tangled hair. "I admire your bravery," she said. "Four years of fighting and disease and death. And I'm sure that being shot in the arm was no picnic either."  
"Because of that," he said softly, taking her hand and bringing it to his cheek. "I saw you again. _That_ was a Godsend." He thought he saw her blush, but if she did, it faded quickly. "I want to thank you," he added. "For everything." She now smiled. "You're more than welcome," she said. "I'd do anything for you." She squeezed his hand, and his heart leapt. "I wish nothing but the best for you, wherever life takes you."  
"I wish it would be with you," he first thought, then shook it out of his head. What was he thinking? Why was he thinking these things? Why did his heart start pounding like crazy whenever she touched him? Why did his palms sweat? Why was this even worse than just being attracted to a person? And why had he never felt this strongly about anyone? Was he-no, no, he couldn't be-could he? He closed his eyes. He certainly hoped not. They sat a while, not saying anything, and not letting go of each other's hand. Hers was cold but soft. He opened his eyes, and hers met his. There was a tenderness in them, a kind gentleness. "I'm right here," they said. "I won't leave you." His fingers locked with hers and grazed them gently. Her fingers tightened around his. It felt good to have her hold his hand, as if a reassurance that everything would be all right and that she would always be here. Suddenly, Daniel popped in, a grin on his face. "They retreated!" He announced. Diana dropped Ben's hand, and he sat up. "They did?" he asked. "Yorktown is safe?" Daniel nodded, and Ben sighed happily. "Thank goodness." Diana smiled at him. "You can go home now," she said. Then Daniel poked his head back out. "Wait, what?" he asked to whoever was shouting at him. "What?! Be serious, man! They did?! Oh God! Wait, are you sure? Let me see!" He rushed back outside, and shouts of joy were heard, more than if they had just won a battle. This seemed more important. Ben and Diana glanced at each other.  
"Diana?"  
"Ben?"  
Daniel rushed back in and to his bedside, a huge smile lighting up his face. "Ben!" he gasped. "Diana! I stand corrected! They didn't retreat!"  
"Then why are you so happy?" asked Ben, his heart pounding (this time, not because of Diana). Daniel's smile now spread across his whole face. "They surrendered!" he exclaimed, grabbing Ben's hand. "They really and truly surrendered! Do you know what this means? It's over! We've won!" Ben's eyes bugged. For a second, he didn't believe him. "Daniel," he said shakily. "If you're lying..."  
"Why would I be lying?" Daniel laughed. "I'm dead serious! I swear to you on the Holy Bible, Cornwallis just surrendered!"  
The man next to Ben grabbed his arm. "Are you sure, boy?" he asked in a gravelly voice. "As sure as there's hair on my head," Daniel replied. "And birds in the sky and God in Heaven. I saw it with my own two eyes! He surrendered!" Ben felt happier than he had ever felt in ages. "Diana!" he cried, throwing his arms around her. "We did it! We won!" "I know!" she laughed, hugging him tightly. "Oh Benjamin!" The whole hospital was in an uproar. Cries of joy replaced those of pain. "We've beaten them!" rang through the air. Ben noticed the tears in Diana's eyes. "Don't cry," he said. "Di, we're free!"  
"I know it!" she laughed. "These are happy tears. Oh Ben, I couldn't be more proud!"  
"You have to see it!" urged Daniel. "Come on!" Ben bolted out of bed, ignoring the dizziness as he stood up. "Wait!" said Diana. She combed his hair as best she could and tied it back. She straightened his clothes and set his hat on his head. "There," she said. "Just pretend you're not sick."  
"Thank you," he said, turning to leave. "Wait!" she called again. She cupped his face in her hands and lightly kissed him on the lips. "Now make me proud." He smiled wider than he had for a long time and nodded, a little dazed. "All right, come on, Romeo," teased Daniel. "Let's go!"

If they had been dogs, the British would have had their tails between their legs as they glumly marched between the two lines of Patriot soldiers. Everyone was supposed to be solemn, and Ben had to bite his jaw to keep from smiling. It was over. It was all over. They were an independent country now. And he had helped. He watched the British soldiers lay down their weapons in surrender. He watched his fellow soldiers try to keep a straight face, but he was pretty sure he saw Jacob trying not to cry. Then he saw General Washington himself, sitting tall and proud on his horse. "I've admired that man since the beginning," he thought. "How about that," whispered Daniel. "We never have to deal with them again!" Ben cracked a smile and shifted his gun on his shoulder. He would never have to shoot it again.

That night, everyone celebrated. A couple of men found an old barn and decided to have a dance in celebration of the surrender. Somehow, they found some local women and musicians and brought them along. Ben's fever seemed to subside, for he was as lively as ever. Then again, maybe it was John's brandy. But Diana said he seemed well enough to leave the hospital, so he did and joined his friends in the barn. The night was chilly, and nobody slept. No one minded, though. "Somebody pinch me," said Jacob contently. "I think I'm dreaming."  
"I'll wake you up," Daniel offered, leaning over to pinch him. "No!" Jacob cried. "No, no I was joking!"  
"Good," said John. "Because you're not dreaming. We really did win!"  
"Think Luke heard about it yet?" Daniel asked. "Probably not," Ben reasoned. "But when he does..."  
"Rebecca had better watch out," finished Daniel, making everyone laugh. "He will be glad to know that his arm was not lost in vain," said Jacob.  
"Matthew would have loved to see this," said Daniel quietly. "He would have been so proud."  
"Oh, I have a feeling he is," said Ben with a smile. "He's probably looking down on us right now and laughing." They all glanced up. "We did it, Matthew," said John softly. Then he turned back to them. "Gentlemen," he said with dignity. "I propose a toast." He raised the bottle of brandy. "To Luke," he said. "For sacrificing his arm for his country. To Matthew, for sacrificing his life for his country. To the rest of the many, many soldiers who lost their limbs or lives. And to all of us for chasing those damn redcoats back to England!"  
"Here here!" they chorused. Ben noticed Diana out of the corner of his eye. She was standing off to the side, taking in the scene. He went over to her, and she smiled when she saw him. "I don't think I've ever seen you so happy," she remarked. He smiled back. "I've never had such a good reason to be happy," he said. "You'll be able to go home tomorrow," she said. "That is, if it's still standing." He hadn't thought about that. Were his parents and William all right? Did the house burn down? Was his family...no, he wouldn't even think it. His worry must have registered on his face because Diana then added, "Oh, Ben, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you! I'm sure they are all fine."  
"I hope so," he agreed. The music started to play again, a lively, upbeat tune. Changing the subject, on impulse he grinned and offered his hand. "Dance with me, Diana." She looked surprised. "What?" she asked.  
"Dance with me," he repeated. She blushed a little. "Here?" she asked. "Now?"  
"Can you think of a better time and place?" he asked by way of response. "Come on, Di, we just won a war. I think we should celebrate _a little_." She grinned back and accepted his hand. She put her other hand on his shoulder, still standing an awkward distance away. "You're going to have to get a little closer than that," he said, putting his other hand on her waist and drawing her closer until their bodies were nearly touching. The music started playing faster and livelier, and Diana looked up at him. "Ben, I can't!" she said. "I don't know any of the steps!"  
"You think I do?" he responded. "Just wing it!" She took a deep breath and nodded, and the next thing either one of them knew, they were whirling and twirling around the barn alongside the other couples. They went faster and faster, her clinging on to him for dear life. He linked his arm with hers and twirled her around, then he grabbed her hands and spun her around. "Ben!" she giggled, her face red. "Ben! Stop!"  
"Can't!" he said, his own face red. "Just go with it!" She closed her eyes, still laughing. They went faster and faster until both were dizzy, but neither cared. He pulled her closer to him again, and she held on even tighter. As the music went even faster, the two romped back and forth and left and right, spinning and spinning and spinning without a care in the world. By the time the music ended, the young couple was red in the face, out of breath, and laughing. "Ohhh, Benjamin," Diana sighed contently. "That was the most fun I've had since I was sixteen."  
"I told you," he said, his cheeks hurting from smiling so much. "Wasn't that much more fun than some stuffy minuet?"  
"By far," she agreed. Her eyes met his, and that same impulse that he had had back when they were sixteen and alone in the store came over him again. Shyly, he dipped his head to the right and pressed his lips to hers. Her hand went along his jaw, sending a tingling sensation throughout him as she returned his kiss. "Bad idea," whispered his conscience. "Bad, bad, bad! Don't do it! Quit now before you regret it!" He ignored it. He had never wanted to, he hadn't intended to, but that night, as he kissed her, he realized that yes, he loved Diana. Matthew had been right; it _was_ the nicest feeling in the world.

Late afternoon the next day, Ben finally went home for good. He didn't feel well at all that day, but he tried to push that aside in spite of the fact that he had a throbbing headache and felt sick to his stomach. His goodbye was bittersweet, as goodbyes typically are. As it turned out, Jacob lived in a small town outside of Yorktown, so he was leaving now too. John said farewell like a man: a handshake and "goodbye". To Ben, he added, "You're a good man, Davidson. Don't forget that." To Jacob, "Stay strong, lad." Daniel's was more heartfelt. "I'll miss you," he said as he hugged them goodbye (Ben thought only women hugged, but oh well). "Me too," he agreed. "We were quite a pair."  
"Promise you won't forget me?" Daniel asked. "I couldn't if I tried," said Ben, feeling a sense of déjà vu. "And say hello to Clara for me, will you?"  
"Certainly," Daniel promised. "Write to me?"  
"Absolutely."  
Soon the inevitable moment came. Diana offered to walk home with them (it _was_ in walking distance). She knew Ben didn't feel well and didn't want him to collapse in the middle of the street or anything, so she went along. Ben and Jacob said a final goodbye to everyone and left. Ben took a final look at the camp where he was shot, almost died, reunited with Diana, won a war, and fell in love. All of these he had thought would never happen, and all of them did in the course of about a week. The war had been an exciting chapter in his life, but now it was time to close it and start a new one.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 9_

After a few minutes of walking, it was time to part ways with Jacob. "I want to thank you," he said to Ben. "For looking out for me, especially when Matthew died. I know I wasn't the bravest soldier."  
"You were only sixteen," said Ben. "It was much harder than I expected when I first joined."  
"And when Matthew died," Jacob went on. "It made everything that much worse. I had known him forever, and I hate to admit it, but I cried all that night."  
"It's all right," said Ben softly. "I did too." Neither said anything for a moment. Then Ben asked, "Was it really you who saved my life?"  
"I guess you could say that," Jacob replied. "I shot that man before he could hurt you anymore, then somehow I got you over my shoulder and carried you to the hospital."  
"Really?" Ben asked. He thought he would have been too heavy for Jacob to carry. Jacob just shrugged. "It wasn't hard," he said. "You weren't _that_ heavy."  
"Well, I suppose I owe you a thank you," said Ben. Jacob smiled. "You're welcome," was all he said. Silence filled between them again. Ben glanced at Jacob, and for the first time, he didn't see a scrawny little boy. None of them had really noticed, but Jacob had filled out into not a bad looking young man. His body was stronger and more muscular, his voice had stopped cracking and became deeper, and his hair had darkened to a deeper brown. He had changed mentally as well; he was no longer the "poor little baby" of the group. His timidness had melted away, and he became braver and bolder. A new respect filled Ben's heart for him. He was a man now, and he deserved to be treated like one. "Well,"he said, interrupting Ben's thoughts. "I'll miss you."  
"I'll miss you too," Ben agreed. Jacob held out his hand. "Have a good life, Ben." Ben surpressed a laugh. It was so _Jacob_ to say something like that. "You too," he said, shaking his hand heartily. "Now go and show that beautiful girl waiting for you what a brave soldier you are."  
"Please," scoffed Jacob, looking slightly embarrassed. "I have none."  
"I'm sure that's not true," said Ben. "Every soldier has a beautiful girl waiting for him back home." Jacob smiled. "Take care of yourself, Ben," was all he said. Then he waved and turned towards home. "Goodbye!" Ben called. He watched Jacob go. He smiled to himself. The boy really had changed, and he couldn't have been more proud of him.

"So," said Diana as they walked through the charred streets of Yorktown. "You said that every soldier has a girl waiting for him. Anyone you're not telling me about?"  
"No," Ben laughed. "I was just teasing Jacob."  
"Maybe there is one," she said slyly."Someone who as always secretly admired you here or in Williamsburg." He raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it," he said. She shrugged. "You never know," she said. "There could be." He paused, then asked shyly, "Could she...could she be right next to me?" Diana frowned and glanced at him. "Beg your pardon?" "Nothing," he said quickly. She didn't persist until a moment later when she stopped and looked at him. "Ohhh, Ben," she said gently, her face softening. "You meant-" He looked at his feet. "You meant me," she realized. He said nothing, and she didn't either for a while. Then she asked, "Care to elaborate?" He sighed. "Not particularly," he said. "But I suppose I have to." She gave him a look that said, "I'm waiting."  
"I didn't mean to," he began. "I didn't want to, but then you were so tender, so gentle, and so much more beautiful than I remembered, and-and last night, when I asked you to dance, I- I-" he paused, suddenly not able to express what he was trying to say. "I realized," he tried again. "That I love you." Diana was quiet, and Ben waited anxiously for her to respond, dreading what she might say but hopeful of what she might also say. Finally she said, "I wish you hadn't told me that."  
"Why not?" he asked.  
"Because now I feel terrible," she answered.  
"And why is that?" he asked again.  
"Because," she said softly. "Because I can't say the same to you." Ben almost literally felt his heart break in two. "I'm sorry," she went on. "I wish I could, Ben, but I don't. I can't change that."  
"You said you cared about me," he pointed out quietly. She shook her head. "No, not like that," she said. "I meant that I cared about you as an old friend that I wanted to get well again, nothing more and nothing less." He cringed. Another blow. "What about all of those caresses?" he asked. "You touched my cheek quite a few times, you stroked my hair, you held my hand, you even kissed me! And that was before I kissed you, too. Did all of that mean nothing?"  
"I hate to tell you," she said. "But yes, it meant nothing more than friendly gestures."  
"And last night!" he brought up, his voice now rising. "You accepted to dance, and you accepted pretty fervently when I kissed you! I wish you had just rejected then so now it wouldn't come as such a surprise! I would have stopped if you had just said no."  
"Shh, Ben," she hushed. "Keep your voice down."  
"Oh, I'm sorry," he snapped. "Am I embarrassing you?" She ignored him. "I was trying!" she said. "I was trying to create a spark, truly I was! But love can't be forced, Ben. You of all people know that. That's why I accepted to dance, and that's why I kissed you back. I wanted to try to love you again."  
"Again?" he asked. She nodded. "Like I said earlier," she said. "You were my first real love when we were sixteen. I thought you and I would one day get married and have children and live happily ever after. But I knew that while you liked me, you never _loved_ me. And that was as it should have been because you were only sixteen."  
"And what's different now?" he asked.  
"It's just gone," she said. "That attraction isn't there anymore. We've gone our separate ways, Ben." Yet another blow. He was silent, then said quietly, "You're the only woman I've ever truly loved."  
"And I won't be the last," she assured him. "I'm just not 'the one'."  
"Not even a little?" he asked sadly. "You can't find it in your heart of hearts to care for me even a _little_?"  
"I'm sorry," she said again. "Truly I am. But it is what it is." She gently touched his arm, but he swatted her hand away. "Don't," he said. She pulled back, looking a bit stricken. "Good," he thought. He looked away. It was then he noticed how destroyed Yorktown looked. He saw a house that one of his friends growing up had lived in, now a mess. "Oh no," he murmured. "Now what's the matter?" Diana asked. Ben shook his head. "I knew the boy who used to live there," he said. "We were good friends growing up." "I'm sorry," she said yet again. "And I'm sorry about all of this. I know that this is probably the last thing you want to hear after war and disease and everything else."  
"I shouldn't have said anything," he said. "I'm sorry you did," she said. "Now you've made me feel like the cruelest woman in the world." He laughed unkindly. "It's all about you, isn't it," he said. She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"_I've_ made _you_ feel like the cruelest woman in the world,"he said. "Yet you have just completely rejected me after I told you I loved you. But do you care? Not at all; you just care about the fact that I've made _you_ feel bad."

"That's not true!" she argued. "If I feel bad now, I obviously do care that I've hurt you!"  
"I'm not so sure," he shot back. "You kiss me and touch me and talk to me in that low, gentle voice, you make me fall in love with you, then you just turn me down saying that you were only doing that because I was 'just an old friend you wanted to get well'. Who does that?"  
"Now that's not fair," she exclaimed. "I didn't _make_ you do anything, Ben Davidson! You admired my womanly charms and fell in love with me all on your own."  
"And now we're getting full of ourselves, aren't we?" he said hotly. "Womanly charms, indeed! You're not exactly a foreign princess, Diana!"  
"You love me anyway!" she said. "Yet I don't love you. There, I said it!" And another blow, the worst of all. It hurt more when she actually said it. "Now if we are just going to stand here arguing," she went on. "I think I should just leave."  
"Just as well," he said. "I don't think we have anything more to say to each other."  
"I'm glad we understand each other," she said coolly. She took his hand and shook it. "And so, Mr. Davidson, it has been lovely to make your acquaintance again, and I bid you adieu. May you someday find it in your heart to forgive me for the pain I've inflicted upon you." She turned to leave, then turned back, her face softer. "I'm sorry," she said again. He just shook his head sadly. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it. And then she was gone. Ben stood there a minute, slightly in shock about what had just happened. "I told you it was a bad idea," said his conscience. He just shook his head. He had officially had his heart broken. Was this what being in love was all about? Well, if so, then Matthew had been dead wrong. "Diana?" he called weakly. She didn't turn around. He sighed and started walking towards home. He hated himself for being so blind. Diana never loved him; she was just helping him. Why had he been so stupid to fall in love with her and to actually think that she would love him back? He now felt bad for snapping at her. It wasn't her fault that she didn't return his affections; she just didn't. Then again, she didn't have to be so tender and loving with him to fool him into thinking the opposite. She could have drawn away when he kissed her. Yes, it would have stung a little, but not nearly as much as it did now. Maybe they were both to blame in this mess. Different emotions ran through him. Anger, frustration, sadness, and hurt, all rolled into one. He was partly angry at her, though it wasn't her fault, and mostly angry at himself. Why had he been so stupid? "That's it," he thought decisively. "I'm never going to fall in love again. It creates nothing but pain."

He was melancholy the rest of the walk home. Partly because of Diana, and partly because of his surroundings. Yorktown was a mess. Smoke and debris were everywhere. Houses and shops were broken into and destroyed. Worst of all, lifeless bodies of soldiers and innocent civilians alike littered the ground. It was a gruesome sight, and Ben was scared that he would recognize one of them. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he reached the house and saw that it was still in good shape. He hoped its inhabitants were as well. The white clapboard was the same, the green shutters were the same, the big green front door he had seen everyday of his childhood coming home from school was the same, everything was there. He stood on the doorstep, thinking a minute. This was the house he had grown up in. There was something comforting about it, especially after all he had endured. He thought about Diana again. He loved her, and she didn't love him back. Rejection, he had just learned, was one of the worst feelings in the world. What he had felt towards her was more than an initial attraction. It was more than what he felt towards Clara Thomas last winter and Ella Harrington when he was thirteen (then again, thirteen-year-old love doesn't go very deep anyway). It really was love, a Romeo-and-Juliet, till-death-us-do-part love. Would he ever feel that way again towards another woman? Would he ever feel even more strongly about another woman? He doubted it, nor did he want to try. "Forget Diana," he told himself. "She isn't worth getting upset over." Somehow, though, he couldn't bring himself to believe this. Trying to put Diana out of his mind, he knocked on the door. A second later, it opened, revealing his tired looking mother. Her hair, which had grayed significantly in the past three years, was falling in her face, her clothes were wrinkled, and she had dark circles under her eyes. The war must have gotten to everybody. She stared at him for a split second, then gasped when she realized that it was her son. "Don't cry," he said gently. "Please don't cry." And of course, she cried. "Oh darling!" she sobbed, hugging him tightly. "Oh Benjamin, my darling!" He dropped his satchel and rifle and hugged her back. "It's all right," he whispered. "Shh, Mama, I'm all right." She wiped her eyes and smiled. "I know," she laughed. "Oh Ben, I just can't believe it's really you!" She kissed him on the cheek and hugged him again. "Come inside, my dear," she said. "My goodness! How thin you are! I'll get you something to eat."  
"Please," he begged. "Just let me sit."  
"Of course," she agreed. "Would you like some water?" He nodded, then collapsed on the sofa. She brought him the water, and he gulped it down. "Easy," she said. "Nice and easy." He finished it in a flash and lay his head down. "Thank you," he whispered. Then he asked, "What happened to you? You look so...unkempt." She sighed. "Blame the British," she said. "With that battle right here, all of us feared for our lives. We've been in and out of the cellar for days now, and we haven't been able to leave the house for fear of being killed. Your father and William are checking on the shop and getting fresh food right now, though I wish they had waited until tomorrow. Even though the British surrendered yesterday, they're still lurking around. They make me nervous."  
"How did you hear about the surrender?" he asked.  
"It started out as a rumor,"she said."We all kept our fingers crossed, but we didn't want to get our hopes up. It was official when it made headlines in the newspaper this morning. Were you there when it happened?"  
"Aye," he said. "I was in the hospital when my friend Daniel burst in and shouted that we won. Actually, he thought they had just retreated until someone told him that they actually surrendered. I've never seen someone so happily surprised as he was." Worry spread across her face. "The-the hospital?" she asked shakily. He bit his lip and nodded. He forgot that part. Sighing, he unbuttoned his shirt and showed her right below his shoulder. "I was shot in my right arm," he explained. Her face went pale, and she fingered the bandage. "It didn't need to be amputated," he continued. "But the doctor burned out the infected part or something a couple of days ago, and it's still very sore. He said it may never be the same, but I'm just glad it's still here. Then I fell sick, and I still am, a little." She felt his forehead. "My God, Ben, you're as hot as fire!" she exclaimed. "What on earth do you have? Pneumonia? Influenza?"  
"Some sort of post-operative fever," he said nonchalantly. "Or something like that. Diana said it could be the death of me."  
"Diana?" she asked. "The same Diana that when you were sixteen you-"  
"Yes, that Diana," he interrupted, cringing. He shouldn't have brought her name up. "Her husband was killed and she was hired as a nurse in the hospital because they were _really_ desperate for volunteers. She looked after me when I was in the hospital. She's worried about this fever." There. He was done talking about her. Mrs. Davidson frowned. "So am I," she said. She pressed her cheek to his forehead again. "I'll tell you what. I'll get you a bath, you can bathe, and a shave probably wouldn't hurt you either, then you can go to bed and I'll take a look at that arm."  
"Fine," he answered.

As he passed the hallway mirror on his way upstairs, he did a double-take when he caught a glimpse of his reflection. Never had he looked so...haphazard. His face was pale, and his eyes were hollow and haunting. His hair was long, and his clothes were torn and dirty. Diana had been right about his face; a mustache and beard were starting to find their way above his lip and along his jaw. He closed his eyes. No wonder Diana said no. The war had really gotten to him, both inside and out.

Clean clothes and a warm bed had never felt so welcoming. He took care of the facial hair, so he felt better in that respect. He felt clean all over too. Soap had never smelled so nice. As it turned out, Faith and John were there as well (their house in Newport had been burned down by the British, so they were staying with the Davidsons until John could go back and buy them a new one). They were next door consoling Mrs. Peppertine over the loss of her son. As Mrs. Davidson undid the bandage on his arm (she cried again when she saw the open wound), he heard his father and William come home. "Katerina?" Mr. Davidson called. "Upstairs!" she called back. Ben heard heavy footsteps, and then his father came in. "What are you doing up-" he started to ask, then he saw his son. He frowned. "Is that-" he asked. "That's not-Ben, is that you?" Ben smiled weakly. "I'd say alive and well," he said. His voice was hoarse. "But then only half of that would be true."  
"He's only been home about an hour," said Mrs. Davidson. Mr. Davidson took Ben's hand. "Thought we'd lost you forever," he said. "All of a sudden, your letters just stopped."  
"He was hurt," his wife explained, showing him their son's arm. "And he's currently very ill." Mr. Davidson's face was grim as he felt Ben's forehead. "I don't suppose they gave you proper medical attention in the hospital either, did they?" he asked. Ben shook his head. "I'll probably end up dying anyway," he said. "No, darling, don't talk like that," said his mother. "We'll get you well again. You're home now, don't worry. It just may take a while." He settled back into the pillows. Then he frowned. "How long a while?" he asked. His parents looked at each other. "A month, perhaps?" Mrs. Davidson said. "If all goes well. Why?"  
"What about Mr. Merriman?" he pointed out. "I still owe him two more years."  
"We'll take care of it,"his father assured him. "I'm sure he will understand."  
"We won't cross that bridge until we come to it," his mother said. "Right now, you just rest. Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Ben shook his head. "I just want to sleep," he said. Mrs. Davidson stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. "Then sleep," she said gently. At that moment, William came in. "Ben!" he exclaimed, squeezing his poor brother half to death. "Ben, you're alive! And home! For good! God, how I've missed you!"  
"Will," Ben laughed. "I didn't think you could care less about me."  
"Of course I care," said William. "You were gone for so long, and we hadn't heard from you in ages, so we all feared the worst. I just can't have people thinking that I've gone soft or that-that I _love my brother!_" He whispered this last part. "I guess that's understandable," said Ben with a smile. "I'd probably do the same." Their parents laughed. "We'll let you two catch up," said Mrs. Davidson. "But William, when he gets tired, you let him rest. He's very ill."  
"Yes ma'am," William agreed. They left, and now it was just the two of them. William studied his brother. "You know," he said. "Given the circumstances, you really don't look _that_ bad."  
"Thank you?" said Ben, though it came out sounding more like a question. "I feel bad, though." Then he smiled a little. "You've gotten big, Will." William looked at himself. "I have?" he asked. Ben nodded. "You're taller," he said. "And your voice has gotten deeper."  
"Don't act so surprised," said William with a grin. "I _will_ be seventeen in two months."  
"My, aren't we old?" Ben teased. "Seventeen. Soon you'll be walking with a cane!"  
"I'm old?" William shot back. "You're what, twenty-one?"  
"Twenty-two," Ben corrected. "As of Tuesday."  
"Exactly," said William. "You're an old man compared to me!"  
"Believe me, I feel it," said Ben. William's grin dropped. "I bet," he said quietly. Then he noticed his brother's arm. "Good Lord!" he said. "What happened to you?" Ben glanced at it. "Oh," he said. "I was shot." William raised an eyebrow as if to say, "And...?" "I was shot in the arm," Ben repeated. "And it almost had to be amputated until the doctor realized at the last minute that he might be able to save it. He burned out the infected part or something, and it must have worked because I've still got my arm, thank God." William touched it gingerly. "Does it hurt?" he asked. Ben nodded. "It was the worst pain I have ever been in when he did the surgery," he said. "And it still hurts. It may never be the same. That's what made me so sick, as well as all that fatigue finally catching up with me."  
"I'm sorry," William said quietly. "Truly I am, Ben. You don't deserve this." His voice was thick, but he was trying not to cry. "William, it's all right," Ben said soothingly. "I'm all right."  
"No you're not!" William said, still fighting tears. "You look so weak and tired! You never get sick, Ben, and now you are dangerously, and-and it scares me! I don't want to lose you."  
"Shh, William, don't cry," Ben consoled. "I'm fine. The worst is over. I never have to see battle again. I'll be all right, then you can make fun of me to your heart's content." William wiped his eyes. "Promise?" he asked.  
"Promise," said Ben. "Now get out of here and let me sleep." William grinned impishly. "Or what?" he asked.  
"Or I'll break _your_ arm once I get better," said Ben. "Or at least Ma will if I holler for her." William laughed a little. "Well," he said. "It's good to see that you haven't lost that charming personality."

After William left, Ben fell into a troubled sleep. He slept all evening, then woke up in the middle of the night, burning with fever. He kicked off all of the covers and pushed his hair off his neck, but he was still hot. Though he felt dizzy, he got out of bed. He went over to the wash basin and splashed the cold water on his face. Ahh, that was much better. As he made his way back to bed, his head spun, and he saw stars. Luckily, he collapsed on the bed as he fainted. He was out cold for a few hours, then woke up again, this time freezing. His body shook with chills. He pulled the covers up to his chin and drew his knees to his chest, trying to get warm, but he was still shaking. He still shook when he fell back asleep.

He slept all the next day, growing more and more frail. Once he cracked his eyes open and, delirious with fever, thought he saw Diana. "Diana?" he whispered hoarsely. The hand touched his face. "No,"said the voice gently. "Ben, it's Faith. Your sister, Faith."  
"Diana," he breathed. "You-you came back!"  
"Tis Faith," she tried again. "Don't you recognize me, Ben?"  
"I need you," he said. "Please. Don't leave me again." Giving up on trying to convince him she was his sister, "Diana" leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "I won't leave you," she said. "I'm right here, Ben." He grabbed her hand and brought it to his cheek. "I love you, Diana," he whispered. "I don't care if you don't." She gently touched his cheek. "Don't worry," she said soothingly. "I love you too, Ben." He smiled and closed his eyes. "Tis all I needed to hear," he whispered. He felt her hand brush his hair away from his face. "I love you..." she repeated.

The next day, he slipped in and out of consciousness, growing sicker and sicker. He couldn't talk. He couldn't eat. He couldn't drink. All he could do was sleep. He could barely recognize his own mother. Finally, on the third day he woke up and saw his sister sitting next to him. "Faith?" he whispered hoarsely. That was the first word he had said in days. She smiled. "Yes Ben," she said. "Tis Faith. I'm right here." She took his hand. "Do you feel any better?"  
"Not really," he admitted. "My head hurts." She felt his forehead. "Your fever is still high," she remarked. "Here." She took the bottle of medicine from the nightstand and poured some in a spoon. "Take some. I know it's terrible, but it will make you feel better." He shakily took the spoon and brought it to his parched lips. He swallowed the thick, syrupy stuff in a quick gulp. "Ugh," he said once it was down. "I know," she sympathized. "Here. Drink some water." He did, but it didn't help much. "Do you need anything?" she asked. He shook his head. She brushed a stray piece of hair out of his face. "Mother made some soup for you," she said. "Will you try to eat some of it?"  
"I'm not hungry," he said.  
"Please, Ben," she pleaded. "You must eat _something_ to keep your strength up." Reluctantly, he agreed, and she spooned the warm broth into his mouth. "Enough," he said after a while. "Please, Faith, no more."  
"Very well," she agreed, setting it aside. She felt his forehead again. "You're so hot," she said. Then she frowned. "That's a nasty bruise you've got there." Her fingers gently brushed it. He swatted her hand away. "Don't," he snapped. She drew back. "All right, all right," she said. She then pressed a cool, wet cloth to his forehead. "Maybe this will cool you down." Ben's eyelids grew heavy. Slowly they closed, but it wasn't long before he started to feel nautious. His cheeks felt like they were swelling together, and he tried to take deep breaths. His face turned slightly green, and he reeled for the bucket his mother had conveniently placed next to the bed and got sick. His eyes watered and his mouth burned, but at least his stomach felt better. Faith patted his back as he coughed. "Sh, it's all right, Ben, you're all right," she said soothingly. "We'll try eating later. Your stomach is too weak yet."  
"Really?" he said sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed." She frowned. "I know you're sick and potentially dying," she said. "But that gives you no excuse to be rude."  
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Faith began to undo the bandage on his arm. "The doctor is coming tomorrow," she said. "Mother is worried about your arm and that fever."  
"Wonderful," he muttered. She frowned when she saw the open wound. "I see why she's worried," she said. "It's swelling. You'll need some sort of medicine; otherwise it will never heal and could probably become infected again. Maybe that's why you're still so ill." Ben didn't answer. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep again as she pressed the wet cloth on his arm and bandaged it up again.

He was awake the next day for the doctor, who put leeches on his arm to bring the swelling down (this definitely got him awake). He gave him some sort of medicine for both his arm and fever. The swelling went down, and slowly his arm started to heal. With the fever, however, no such luck. Over the next week, he drifted in and out of a delirious, restless sleep. Mrs. Davidson changed the bandages every evening and applied the medicine. He began to eat a little, but usually couldn't keep it down. When he was awake, he would snap at anyone who tried to touch him. His fever raged until around midnight on the eighth day when it broke, and he finally slept peacefully. The next morning, the doctor came again and stitched up Ben's arm. "Well," he said right before he left. "It isn't completely healed; you'll have a nasty scar there, and you're still weak, but I think it's safe to say that you will make a full recovery."  
"That's good," said Ben, lying back into the pillows. "I didn't think I'd ever get well again."  
"You had a mighty close call, I'll give you that," said the doctor. "I'd say someone is watching out for you up there. Otherwise, you probably would have been dead days ago." Ben cringed. That wasn't exactly an encouraging thing to hear. At least it didn't come true.

He slept soundly the rest of the day. When he awoke, Faith was sitting by his side. "Good, you're awake," she said gently as he blinked and rubbed his eyes. "How do you feel?" He sat up little. "Better," he answered. "I'm not dizzy anymore, and my head doesn't hurt."  
"Wonderful," she said. "How is your arm?" He rubbed it with his left hand. "It's still a little sore," he admitted. "But it feels better too." She felt his forehead for the hundredth time. "No fever," she concluded with a smile. "You're just weary from it, but nothing a little rest won't fix. Are you hungry?" Now that she mentioned it, his stomach growled. "I'm _starving_," he said. She gave him a tray of soup, bread, and water, which he devoured in five minutes. "Slow down!" she exclaimed. "I don't want you throwing up again."  
"I'm fine," he assured her. She took the tray from him, and he leaned back. Then he frowned. Something felt wrong. His head felt much lighter, and not because he wasn't dizzy anymore. "You cut my hair?" he asked, fingering the short strands. Faith smiled and nodded. "I did this morning," she said. "It had gotten pretty long. And be grateful that I got to it before Mother did. She was convinced you had lice and wanted to shave it off." His hand flew to his hair. "Don't worry," she said. "I just cut it short. You didn't have lice either, surprisingly. And it looks nice, if I do say so myself. It brings out your eyes."

"Because _that's_ what I was worried about," he said with a small grin. That was the first time he had smiled in days. "You're not angry, are you?" she asked. "No, of course not," he laughed, leaning back into the pillows. "I find it funny, truth be told. It will just take some getting used to."

"Good," she said. "Because I would be angry if someone did that to me." "You're a woman," he pointed out. "You care about these things."

"That's true," she agreed. He studied her for a second. She looked different, somehow. He frowned. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something had definitely changed. Was it her demeanor? No, she was being more tender towards him, but that was just because he was sick. He then noticed her figure. Faith had always had a nice slender shape. Now, however, her stomach seemed much bigger and swollen. It didn't look like she had just eaten too much, either. "Faith?" he asked. "Are you-are you going to-?" She smiled and nodded. "Aye," she answered. "Come early January." Ben's face lit up. "Faith Winchell!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"I wanted to!" she said. "But when I first found out, I didn't want to send you word because I didn't want you to become excited and then killed or something else horrible. Also, by that time your letters had stopped, and we didn't know if you were alive or dead. Besides, I thought you would notice!"  
"I was half dead!" he said. "And you know that I've never been the best at details."  
"That's true," she laughed. He smiled and put his hand on his niece or nephew to be. "Well, congratulations," he said. "To both you and John. Fancy you a mother!"  
"And you an uncle!" she said. "And-oh goodness-Mother and Father _grandparents_!"  
"That makes them sound so _old_," he remarked.

"Oh Ben, they _are_ old!" she said, making both of them laugh.

"Think Father will be as strict with him or her as he was with us?" Ben asked.  
"I'm sure he will adore him," said Faith. "Or her."  
"Maybe he will actually show some affection for once," he said. "Which is more than he did for us."  
"He's not bad," she said. "He's just got a hard exterior."  
"Still," he said. "He was always so stern with us. He never hugged us or told us he was proud of us or anything like that."  
"He loves us," she said. "He's not good at showing it, but he does. Do you know how worried he's been about you these past few years?" Ben smiled a little. "Really?" he asked. Faith nodded. "And I know he will adore his grandchildren," she said. Then, changing the subject, she said, "I've been meaning to ask you. About a week ago, you thought I was someone named Diana?" His smile dropped. "I did?" he asked. She nodded. He vaguely remembered calling "Diana!" to her. That's right, he asked her not to leave him and said that he loved her even if she didn't. Then she said that she loved him and kissed his cheek. And she promised that she wouldn't leave. He had genuinely thought it was his Diana come back. Apparently, though, it had only been Faith. "It-it was you?" he asked sadly. She nodded again. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I must have been hallucinating." His heart sunk. It hadn't been Diana, and she hadn't kissed him, and she hadn't told him she loved him. This was getting bad. His heart was broken so badly that he was imagining her. "Who is Diana?" she asked with a grin. "Someone you're not telling me about?" He looked away, trying to not let her see that his eyes were becoming wet. He wiped his eyes. No, he would absolutely not cry. It was a silly thing to cry over. Her smile dropped. "Ben?" she asked. "Is-is there something you need to tell me?" He said nothing. She titled his face to meet her eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Hm? Tell me." He shook his head. It was too painful to talk about. "I don't want to talk about it," he said. "I'm all right." She frowned. "Your face says otherwise," she remarked. "Something is wrong. Tell me."  
"Faith?" he said sharply. "Drop it. I'm fine." She didn't look convinced, but she didn't persist.

Ben's health improved over the course of a week. He tried to push that other certain ailment aside and focus on getting physically well. He didn't want to be a Romeo and mope around, pining for a girl he couldn't have. Though when he thought about it, he _was_ the Romeo in this situation, and Diana was Rosaline. And as long as that analogy went on, there was a Juliet down the road. But then their parents would hate each other and he would end up killing her cousin and eventually they would both kill themselves. Well, maybe he should just leave it at the Romeo-Rosaline comparison. This wasn't a Shakespearean drama; this was real life. And being real life, he decided to put the whole thing out of his mind as best he could.

Soon he could walk, and finally Mrs. Davidson let him come downstairs. Not that she let him do anything besides curl up in the chair by the fire cocooned in blankets, but he didn't mind. The tension that had once lingered throughout the house seemed to disintegrate, bringing a peaceful, easy feeling. The angel of death had passed over them, and not only that, but in a matter of two months, a new baby would be among them. John would be going back to Newport for work and to see about a new house next week, and Faith would stay at her parents'. This meant that the baby would be born there. John said he would come back at Christmas, then take Faith and the baby home. Mrs. Davidson insisted that Ben stay until Faith gave birth, then a few days later return to Williamsburg. He agreed without objection. That would give him nearly two months of recovery and leisure. Then his life would start again.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 10_

A month had passed. Ben was finally strong and healthy again. The bruise on his forehead was gone, and that once nearly fatal wound was now just an ugly scar. It was sensitive, and it still hurt from time to time, but it was out of sight and healed. His face regained color, and the dark circles and bags under his eyes went away. As he combed his newly short hair one morning (it still felt as strange as if something had been amputated, but if something had to be cut off, he was glad it was his hair and not his arm), he studied himself in the mirror. His face wasn't too bad. The boyish freckles that had dotted his face throughout his teen years had faded. _Sommer Sprossen_, his mother used to call them, which meant freckles in German. She had come from Bavaria when she was eight years old to live with her grandparents in the colonies, and she used to always spit out German phrases here and there. "_Mein Junge hat Sommer Sprossen,_" she used to say, which translated as, "My boy has freckles." Though dry, his lips were full. They were the type that made one want to kiss them quickly. That or for playing the flute. He was good at neither. His nose was pretty nondescript, as far as noses go. His eyes were a dark brown like his hair. Boring, boring brown. His body wasn't bad. He was tall and slim, but not lanky. He was muscular enough, but not to the point where he was bulging or anything. All in all, he deemed his appearance decent. Not that it really mattered.

As it turned out, it _did_ matter. And not exactly in his favor, either, at least in his opinion. For some reason, they would have a dinner guest nearly every other afternoon, and all of them came with a young girl, usually their daughter or niece. Occasionally, Mr. Davidson would be invited to a friend's house for dinner, and he would take Ben with him. When Ben asked why he took him as opposed to William, his answer was, "Well, um-William is-um-not as mature as you." And he left it at that. Ben couldn't help but notice that the friend always had a daughter.

As the Christmas season drew closer and closer, Faith grew bigger and bigger, and more and more dinner guests were had. Ben found out why on the night before Christmas Eve. Everyone had gone to bed except his parents. He was thirsty, so he decided to go downstairs for some water. As he crept down the stairs, he overheard his parents talking in low voices. "...no interest in any of them," he heard his father say. "Many were quite pretty, I assure you."

"Maybe he never caught on that this was what we were trying to do," said his mother. "Still," said his father. "The boy is twenty-two years old. You'd think he would take an interest in at least one girl, whether he knows we are trying to set him up or not." That was it! That was why they had all the dinner guests with daughters! His parents were trying to set him up! "Did any of them take an interest in him?" Mrs. Davidson asked.

"It looked like it," Mr. Davidson answered. "That doesn't surprise me," she said. "As good-looking as he is. I am not just saying that because I am his mother, either. All the neighbors agree."

"And these girls were _very_ good-looking," he said again. "I don't understand why he didn't show any interest. Twenty-two year old men are known for those kind of things."

"Not ours," she said with a small laugh. "I don't know where his interests lie right now, but I don't think they're on young women. I wish they were, though, just slightly. I think he'd be much happier if he was. He's seemed so...depressed lately, ever since he came back."

"That's war, Katja,"he said. "It can turn the merriest man bitter."

"Tis not just the war that's the problem," Ben thought. "Just the same, though," his father continued. "He would be much happier if he found someone. I think he just needs to wake up. He's always been a tad bit clueless." They were quiet, then Mr. Davidson said, "Well, I'm going to bed. We can talk to him about it later." Ben frowned. "Wonderful," he thought. "I can hardly wait."

The next day, which was Faith's third wedding anniversary as well as Christmas Eve, John came home. This, of course, made Faith very happy. It was evening when he got there. Everyone was in the parlor, Faith and Mrs. Davidson making clothes for the coming baby, Mr. Davidson reading the newspaper, and Ben and William engaged in a game of chess. A knock came at the door. Natalie got it, and in came John with snowflakes in his hair. "John!" exclaimed Faith. He grinned. "Hello everyone," he said politely. Mrs. Davidson sprang up. "Here, let me take your wraps," she offered. "Go sit by the fire, dear, you must be freezing!" "Thank you," he said, sitting next to his wife, who kissed him hello. Ben and William glanced at each other and grinned. "How is the baby?" John asked. Faith rested her hands on her huge belly. "Fine," she answered. "Tis coming close, too." He laid his hand on hers. "How is the house?" asked Mr. Davidson. "Beautiful," John answered. "It was a bit expensive, but definitely worth it. Tis brand new as well, and is on a good-sized property. It's not far from by office, either. Oh darling, wait until you see it!"

"I can hardly wait," she said, squeezing his hand. "It's near the midwife's house as well," he added.

"That's good," she said. "Between you and Mrs. Monroe, I should be able to send you out for her many times."

"Not _too_ many times, I hope," said Mr. Davidson good-naturedly.

"Why, Father?" she asked. "I thought you wanted lots and lots of grandchildren."

"Oh, we do," said Mrs. Davidson, coming back in. "But remember, we still have two others to have their own children." "I'm fine, actually, thank you" said Ben. William grinned. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll make sure you have lots and lots and lots and-"

"All right, dear, you've made your point," interrupted Mrs. Davidson. "But for now, let's just focus on this one and the proud parents." Faith and John smiled at each other. "Well," said William, standing up. "I think I'll go to bed."

"Don't you want to finish our game?" Ben asked. William shook his head. "You just killed me three times in a row," he said. "No thank you." John stood up. "I think I'll do the same," he said. "It's been a long day. Faith? Care to join me?"

"Of course," she said, putting her sewing down. "Goodnight everyone." "Good night," they chorused. After they all left, it was just Ben and his parents. They were all silent for a while. Then Mrs. Davidson remarked, "They really do make a lovely couple."

"Aye," Mr. Davidson agreed. "That they do."

"Don't you think, Ben?" she asked. He just nodded and said, "Indeed." His parents glanced at each other. Finally, his mother said, "Ben, dear, there's something we'd like to talk to you about." He looked up. Here it was; the "talk" that had been mentioned last night. "Oh?" he asked. She patted the spot between them, and he sat. "Darling," she said. "What are your thoughts on marriage?" There it was; it was out. "Well," he said. "I think it's nice, but not necessarily for me." She nodded. "And why is that?" Memories from a few months ago came back. He cringed. Still too painful. "I-I just don't think I'd be able to love someone that much," he lied. "And I don't think anyone would love me enough to marry me." This part wasn't a lie. "Marriage isn't all about love," said his father. "Truthfully, nine out of ten marriages are business deals. That's what ours was"

"And then you ended up falling in love," said Ben. His parents looked at each other and smiled a bit. "That we did," said his mother softly. "I'd rather fall in love _before_ I get married," said Ben. "The way it's supposed to work."

"Not necessarily," said Mr. Davidson. "Again, most marriages are business deals."

"And you're telling me this why?" asked Ben. His parents looked at each other again. "Ben," Mrs. Davidson sighed. "You are twenty-two years old. Your apprenticeship will be over soon. Tis time for you to start thinking about settling down and starting a family. We won't be around forever, and you'll be lonely if you don't. Besides, married people have a better standing in society than single people."

"Is that why you've been having over so many guests with daughters?" he asked. "To try to set me up?"

"Yes," said Mr. Davidson. "We've been trying to spark your interest in someone."

"Why?"

"We want you to be happy," said Mrs. Davidson. "We want you to get married and have children."

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you," said Ben. "But I didn't take much notice to any of them."

"You wouldn't necessarily have to," said his father. "A marriage doesn't have to be based on love. We could set up something and that would be that." Ben frowned. "How can you say that?" he exclaimed. "A marriage should be completely based on love! Society just doesn't seem to think so. I would rather die alone than marry someone I don't love and who doesn't love me! And as of right now, both seem to be the case."

"You're just stubborn,"said his mother. "Ben, you have more potential than you think. You're tall, you're handsome, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. You could have any girl out there without having to worry about rejection. You just won't open your mind to it." Those memories came again. "Not any girl," he said softly. "Not the only one I actually care about." His parents frowned, then Mrs. Davidson's face softened. "Oh dear," she murmured. "Who is it?" He shook his head. "No one," he said. "Forget what I just said." She stroked his hair. "Ben," she said. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he snapped. "I'm fine."

"We know you better than that," she said. "Hm? What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" he exclaimed, standing up. "Tis none of your business anyway!"

"You watch your tone, young man!" scolded his father. "Don't talk to your mother like that!" Ben sat back down. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. She put her hand on his knee. "So am I," she said. "We won't talk about this again. But will you try to keep an open mind on the matter?"

"If you promise not to set me up anymore," he said.

"We promise," both agreed.

"Good," he said. "But _I'm_ not promising anything."

His parents kept their promise and didn't try to set him up anymore, but he didn't keep his. He didn't try to keep an open mind on the matter, nor would he ever. If he couldn't have Diana, then he wouldn't have any other woman.

It was a cold, snowy, January night when Alexandra Winchell came into the world. Faith labored all afternoon, and at nine thirty in the evening of January third, 1782, her daughter was born. Mrs. Davidson, Natalie, and Mrs. Henderson, the midwife who had delivered Faith and William (she was in Richmond when Ben was born), all assisted with the birth while the men stayed downstairs. William absentmindedly rolled marbles, Ben curled up in a chair and read _Robinson Crusoe_, Mr. Davidson tried to make small talk, and John paced anxiously across the room. They heard Faith's soft moans from time to time, but nothing especially alarming. Soon her moans became louder, and at nine thirty they heard her suddenly scream, then go silent. They all looked at each other nervously. Then another cry was heard, a different cry, a good strong wail. A baby's cry. A moment later, Mrs. Henderson came downstairs holding a little bundle. Ben looked up from his book, and William looked up from the marbles. John rushed to her. "How is she?" he immediately asked. "Is she all right?" The old midwife smiled. "Who?" she asked. "Your wife or daughter?" A slow smile spread across John's face. "A-a girl?" he stammered. "Tis a little girl?" "Aye," said Mrs. Henderson, placing his newborn daughter in his arms. "A beautiful, healthy, baby girl." John appeared speechless. "How is Faith?" asked Mr. Davidson. "She's fine," answered Mrs. Henderson. "The birth went very smoothly, and she's just tired. She is absolutely fine, though." John marveled over his baby. "How beautiful she is," he murmured. "How tiny." Mr. Davidson stood next to him and smiled from ear to ear. "Our first grandchild," he said. Mrs. Henderson beckoned to his sons. "Come, boys," she said. "Come see your new niece." Shyly, they peered over their brother-in-law's shoulder. Ben held his breath. His niece. His tiny, beautiful niece. "Oh," he breathed. "She's beautiful," said William softly. Ben reached over and touched the tiny cheek with his finger. "She's so little," he marveled. "Tis hard to believe we were all this small and helpless once."

"She will grow," said his father. "Faster than we imagine." John held her closer to him. "My little baby," he whispered. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

The next morning, the first thing Ben did was see his sister. She looked tired but very content when he came in. "And how is our new mother this morning?" he asked with a grin. She smiled when she saw him. "Hello, Ben," she said softly. He sat at her bedside. "How are you?" he asked. "Do you feel all right?"

"I feel wonderful," she said. "Twasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"She is absolutely beautiful," he said. "I think she even looks like you."

"Really?" she asked. "I think it's too soon to tell."

"I see it," he said. "Oh, Faith, congratulations! I still can't wrap my head around the fact that my sister is a mother!"

"Well, wrap your head around it," she laughed. "I know what you mean, though. I can scarcely believe it myself." "By the way," he said. "Have you and John picked a name yet?" She smiled and nodded. "Alexandra," she replied. "Alexandra Winchell." He frowned. "Alexandra?" he asked.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked. "Don't you like it?"

"No, I do," he said. "Tis a lovely name, just a bit...obscure. Where did you get a name like Alexandra?"

"I've just always liked the name," she said. "Tis different than your typical Elizabeth or Mary." He shrugged. She had a point there. Then he grinned. "Her name is longer than she is," he said. Then Mrs. Davidson came in. She smiled when she saw her two children side-by-side. "I see you've met our little Alexandra," she said. She stood next to him. "Isn't she perfect?"

"Absolutely," he agreed. "In every way." Faith smiled contently and lay back into the pillows. Then Mrs. Davidson said, "You should probably feed her."

"Will you help me?" Faith asked. "I'm not completely sure how to yet."

"Of course," said her mother. Then she looked at Ben. "Ben, dear, I hate to kick you out, but-"

"Oh," he said, realizing what they were about to do. "I'm sorry." He left the room, then smiled to himself. He was really an uncle. And truthfully, he couldn't be more proud of his sister, the wonderfully annoying older sister he had grown up with, played with, argued with, and secretly loved, though he would never say this out loud.

A few days went by, and Faith recovered quickly. She and John spent most of their time together, cooing over baby Alexandra. One evening, Ben walked by their room and overheard their conversation. He secretly watched Faith and John coo over their newborn. They gazed at each other lovingly, and John leaned over and gave her a long, heartfelt kiss. She smiled and gently caressed his cheek. "I'm proud of you," Ben heard his brother-in-law whisper in Faith's ear. "I love you," Faith whispered back. John gently touched his daughter's tiny hand. "Isn't she beautiful?" he asked. "I think she has your eyes."

"And your nose," she said. "My goodness, John..." She didn't finish her sentence. Normally, Ben would laugh at them and think them a couple of mush pots. However, the whole scene was so loving and heartwarming that he was almost envious. "Oh stop," he told himself . "What's gotten in to you?" Really, he reasoned, who needed marriage and babies to be happy? He knew he never would. It seemed like too much work. Having to put up with a wife, arguing, crying babies, energetic children, moody teenagers, wife's pregnancy mood swings, possibly losing her to childbirth, a wedding, vows, loving smiles, kisses, intimacy, first baby, undying love...oh, who was he fooling? It sounded wonderful.

Soon it was his last night at home. His mother made a big dinner, which reminded him of his last night with the Merrimans. How long ago that was! His father and Mr. Merriman had corresponded a few times, so they knew he was coming the next day. Though Ben had said he could go himself, Mr. Merriman had offered to come to Yorktown in the morning and take him back to Williamsburg. Even though the fighting was over, it was risky to travel alone. The British hadn't formally surrendered yet, and some were still lurking about.

As he packed his trunk that night, he thought back to the events of the past four years. Some good, like his friends, Faith's marriage, and Diana. Some bad, like death, being shot, cold, hunger, fatigue, Diana again...all right, there were more bad than good. Some soldiers lost their limbs, others their lives. Some came home with a few physical scars, but with many haunting memories that would plague them for the rest of their lives. The latter was Ben Davidson's case. He sighed. After all that, going back to the Merrimans seemed like going to Heaven. His mother then knocked on the door frame. "Do you need any help?" she asked. He looked up. "No, thank you," he said. She came in anyway and sat next to him on the floor. "What are you thinking about?" she asked. He shook his head. "Just reflecting, I guess," he replied.

"On the war?"

"Aye."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm very proud of you," she said. "It takes a lot of courage to fight for one's beliefs." "Really," he said. "There's no need to be. I'm not some great war hero or anything."

"You are in my eyes," she said, stroking his hair. "And I love you very, very much." They sat in silence for a moment. Then she said, "I have something for you." She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out... "An engagement ring?" asked Ben with a frown. "Not just any engagement ring," she said. "Your great grandmother's." She placed it in his palm. "She gave it to me on my tenth birthday, and now I'm giving it to you." "Why?" he asked.

"It may come in handy someday," she replied simply. He fingered it. "It's pretty," he remarked. It was gold, with a diamond in the middle that sparkled. There were two tiny pink opals on either side of the diamond. "Opals were her birthstone," she explained. "She was born in October like you were. And a diamond is in every good ring, not to mention the birthstone for April." Ben smiled a little. "I doubt I'll ever need it," he said. "But thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, standing up. "Now I'd better go check on your sister and Alexandra." She kissed the top of his head. "Good night, darling."

"Good night," he said. She turned to leave. "Wait!" he called. "Mother?" She turned back around. "Yes dear?" she asked. "Just...nothing," he said. "I just wanted to say thank you. For everything." She smiled. "You don't need to thank me," she said. "You're still my little boy. You know I'd do anything for you." He nodded. "I know."

"Good," she said. "Now finish packing. I'll go see to Alexandra."

The next day was cold but sunny. After a big breakfast, Faith kept Ben company as he tossed some last minute things in his trunk. "You're leaving again," she said, holding Alexandra. He nodded. "Mr. Merriman should be here within the hour," he said. "Isn't that nice of him? He travels all day just to bring me home so I won't have to go by myself."

"This is your home, Ben," she said softly. "Your family is here."

"I know," he said. "Funny thing is, though, in the seven years I've known them, they've also become a sort of second family. Perhaps as one views inlaws."

"At least they treat you well," she said. "Not like a slave as some apprentices are treated." Ben shook his head. "I may as well be their own son," he said. Faith said nothing. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing," she assured him. "I just hate to say goodbye to you _again_, that's all." "It's not like it was a few years ago, Faith," he pointed out. "I'm not going to war again."

"I know," she said. "And I know I'll see you again. It's just, well, all that time you were so sick, I thought for sure that we were going to lose you, and when we didn't...I don't know, I just never wanted you to leave home again."

"I have to," he said. "I'm glad to be alive, but I don't want to stay cooped up at home for the rest of my life."

"I know," she said. "And you shouldn't have to. I just felt so bad for you during that time. Well, naturally, because nobody wants to die, and really, who wants to lose her brother? But just looking at your lifeless face, I thought of all those things you'd never do. You'd never have your own store, you'd never love and feel a woman's love in return, you'd never see a bride-your bride-walk down the aisle towards you, you'd never experience that wonderful thing that is said to be the most intimate between a man and a woman-"

"Said to be?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. "Don't act as if you don't know, Faith, because you obviously do." He gestured to baby Alexandra in her arms. She smiled back. "All right, the thing that _is_ the most intimate between a man and a woman," she rephrased.

"Well, it wouldn't have mattered anyway," he said. "I'll never be so fortunate."

"Oh, you will," she mused. He looked at her funny, and she quickly changed the subject. "Here," she said. "Would you like to hold Alexandra?"

"All right," he said slowly. "But I have to warn you, I'm bad with babies."

"I doubt that," she replied, placing the wiggly little thing in his arms. Alexandra opened her eyes and stared up at her uncle sleepily. Ben smiled a little. "She's awfully sweet," he said. He brushed his finger along her tiny cheek. "All of her," he said. "Her eyes, her fingers, her mouth, everything is brand new."

"I want to keep her in my arms forever and never let her see the cold, cruel world," said Faith.

"It will chew her up and spit her out like the rest of us," Ben agreed. Alexandra started fussing, so he handed her back to her mother. "There are good parts, though," she said. "She will see those parts."

"Does it feel different being a parent?" he asked, and she nodded. "You have no idea the responsibility I know feel towards her," she said. "But you will feel that towards your children when you become a father."

"Faith," he said sadly. "I think we all know that that's not going to happen." "You don't know that," she said. "Don't completely close your heart, Ben. I don't know what happened that made you so bitter about these things, and I'm not going to ask. But you might surprise yourself one day. Who knows? In five years, you may find yourself married with a newborn baby."

"I doubt it."

"I don't."

He smiled a little. Never had Faith sounded so sure. "Well, it would be nice if you were right," he said. "But-"

"There's no buts about it," she said. "I'm right about everything else, and I'm right about this. Just give it time." He was quiet for a second. This was the most encouraging she had ever been. "Thank you, then," he finally said. She smiled. "No need to thank me," she said. "Now finish packing. I've got to feed this one." And from then on, things were different between him and his sister.

An hour later, Mr. Merriman arrived. Ben was a bit shy at first. After all, he hadn't seen him in four years. He was upstairs when he heard the door open. He then heard his parents' voices, then Mr. Merriman's. It was almost as familiar to him as his own father's. He felt his palms grow sweaty (now that he thought about it, this had been happening more and more in the past year). Why was he nervous? William poked his head in. "Mr. Merriman's here," he said.

"I heard," Ben said. "I'll be right down." William left, and Ben examined himself quickly in the mirror. Hair-fine. Teeth-fine. Clothes-fine. Face-fine. Deciding his appearance was not bad, he ran a hand through his hair. "All right," he thought. "Here goes nothing."

Shyly, he went downstairs, and shyly, he entered the parlor where his father and Mr. Merriman were talking. When he first saw him, Ben felt like he might cry. Four years was too long a time to go without seeing someone, and there he was, just feet away from him! Mr. Merriman looked about the same. A little older, perhaps, and more weary, and his hair was starting to gray, but other than that he looked the same as he did four years ago. Ben didn't say anything until his father noticed him and said, "Here he is now." Mr. Merriman turned around, and a huge smile lit up his face when he saw his old apprentice. "Why, Benjamin Davidson!" he exclaimed, shaking his hand heartily. "We haven't seen you in forever, it seems like!"

"I suppose you assumed me dead," said Ben with a smile. "I'm sorry I didn't write for so long."

"That doesn't matter," he said, now hugging him. "You don't know how relieved we were when your father wrote us saying they you were alive and well." Then he let him go. "Well, stand up straight, lad, let me look at you." Ben obeyed. Mr. Merriman smiled. "Well well well," he said. "You leave a boy and come back a young man. I wouldn't have recognized you had I not known better."

"He's changed, all right," said Mr. Davidson. "But we're very proud of him." Ben smiled a little. His father was proud of him? "Naturally," Mr. Merriman agreed. "Not everyone can brag about their brave soldier. But we can, and even better, we can say that he made it home alive and intact!"

"Barely," said Ben. "How I'm alive to talk to you right now is a mystery to me. The odds of survival weren't exactly in my favor."

"You beat them, though," said his father. "And I can't tell you how proud of you I am for doing so." Ben felt his cheeks go pink with pleasure. Never before had his father ever said anything like that to him. And now that he did, it meant more to Ben than coming from anyone else.

Mrs. Davidson convinced them to stay for dinner, and soon the inevitable goodbyes came. Ben tried to make them quick, but it wasn't easy, especially parting with a five-day-old niece. There were hugs and kisses from the women, handshakes and "be safe"'s from the men. Finally, he said one last goodbye to his family (not forever, thank goodness) and took his place next to Mr. Merriman on the riding chair.

Ben learned that only Mr. and Mrs. Merriman (and Marcus and Rose, of course) knew he was coming home. They wanted it to be a surprise for the children, namely Felicity. "She has missed you," said Mr. Merriman. "We all have, but she has the most. She cried when you left, and she cried when she heard you were hurt. As far as she knows, you're dead." Ben smiled. "And that's why you didn't tell her?" he asked. Mr. Merriman nodded. "I just said that I had some business to tend to in Yorktown and that I'd be back late tonight," he said. "You probably won't see them until tomorrow morning. The children, anyway. Mrs. Merriman should still be up." They rode in silence for a while. Then he said, "Well, after being away at war for four years, I'm sure you have some interesting stories." "A couple," Ben answered with a smile. "I think I wrote about most of them, though."

"We heard about them through your letters to Lissie," Mr. Merriman said. "Whenever she would get one, she would make us gather in the parlor while she would read them aloud. She was always so pleased to get one. I think she kept every single one."

"I still have hers," said Ben. "I always enjoyed getting her letters. They always made my friends and me laugh. Which we needed."

"Was war what you expected it would be?" asked Mr. Merriman. Ben shook his head. "'Twas far worse," he replied. "Much of it was just sitting around camp feeling miserable! And all that walking and marching! Many men's feet bled from not having shoes and frostbite from snow. I was lucky; I always had shoes and decent clothes. Oh, and actual fighting was no fun, either. I nearly lost my arm, then my life."

"I know," said Mr. Merriman softly. "I know." More silence. Then he said, "We're all very proud of you, Ben. It takes a strong person to put his very life on the line for what he believes in."

"I'm just glad it's over," said Ben. "It definitely wasn't worth running away for, I'll tell you that much." Mr. Merriman laughed. "You were only fifteen," he said. "You didn't know better. By the way, exactly how old are you now?"

"Twenty-two," Ben answered. "Feel like sixty-two." Mr. Merriman nodded. "War will do that to you," he said. "To soldiers and civilians alike." Then he added, "I bet Felicity and the other children won't recognize you."

"I probably won't recognize them," said Ben. "Especially Polly. She was not even two when I left."

"They've all grown up well beyond their years," said Mr. Merriman. "Especially Lissie. She will be so pleased to see you." "And I her," said Ben. Another silence. He thought of Felicity and all the letters they had exchanged. He noticed a maturity setting in hers as the years went on. He wondered if she would have that maturity in person. After all, she _was_ sixteen. He smiled. Little Lissie, already sixteen! He wondered if and how she had changed, as well as the rest of them. He wondered if their relationship would be any different now because of the war and the fact that they were older. He wondered if she still had the liveliness she had had when he left. So many things he wondered, and so many things he would find out. He had waited four long years to see them, and now it was just down to hours. Just a few more hours...

_End of Part 1_


	12. Chapter 12

**Just so you know, this half of the story is told through Felicity's perspective. Thank you for reading; keep reviewing please!**

_Part 2_

_Chapter 11_

Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a beautiful princess named Felicity. All right, it wasn't exactly a faraway kingdom, and Felicity wasn't exactly a beautiful princess. She was a normal, sixteen year old girl, the daughter of a storekeeper, not a king, living in Williamsburg, Virginia. As the second part of our story begins, the date is January eighth, 1782. The place: Felicity's bed. The person: Felicity, who was tossing and turning, suffering from insomnia. Meanwhile, her sister Nan slept blissfully next to her. Felicity was sixteen now, seventeen in April. Her hair had darkened to a pretty auburn and just brushed past her ribcage in unruly curls. Everyone said her hair was gorgeous, but she found it rather a nuisance. Not only did it take forever to deal with, it got in her way too. Personally, she would rather cut it to her shoulders, but ladies had long hair, and technically, she _was_ a lady. Her eyes were a pretty shade of green, and childhood freckles still dotted her face. _Sommer Sprossen_, Ben had once called them. Ah, Ben. She hadn't seen him since he joined the army four long years ago. The war ended back in October, and yet he hadn't come home. Felicity only naturally assumed him dead. After he left, she set aside a special drawer in her dressing table where she kept little things that reminded her of him. She stored all of the letters he had written her, his signal whistle that he gave her the day he left, his Sunday breeches that she had borrowed-without-asking to visit Penny so long ago, and a lock of his hair she had cut when he was fast asleep. That drawer was now a coffin, filled with nothing but memories.

Right now, however, Felicity wasn't thinking about Ben. Truthfully, she had erased him from her mind a while ago. The giddy, girly feelings she once had for him were gone, because after all, he was dead, wasn't he? And it was no use to wait for a dead man. Besides, it wasn't as if she hadn't tried her hand at any other boys. A couple of years ago, she had been courted (unofficially) by Charles Frederick, the son of one of her father's friends. Charles had been the one who had given her her first kiss. And her first heartbreak when he was found kissing Anne Richards behind the blacksmith's shop. She stopped seeing him after that, even though he tried to offer a pathetic excuse for an apology. Oh well. Charles had been handsome, but he really wasn't very nice. At the time, Felicity was just too pleased that someone actually liked her to care. Now, she thanked her lucky stars that she didn't have to deal with him anymore. Then there was Johnny Boyles, but _he_ liked _her_, not the other way around. She found him sweet enough, but he droned ON and ON about a bunch of nonsense without letting her get a word in. Meanwhile, Elizabeth had her fairy tale romance, courting in secret, her parents forbidding her to see him, then eloping. Well, they didn't really elope, but it sounded better than saying that they got married with everyone there but her family. And besides that, Caleb was handsome _and_ nice. Those kind of men were hard to come by. Felicity had it figured that she was going to die an old maid, living in Nan's guest quarters. Anyway, after the Great Charles Frederick Affair, as it was later christened, she divided her time between chores, Elizabeth, and maybe a ball every now and then. All in all, she was happy. Not bouncing over the moon or anything, just happy. Nothing exciting to stir up her life, and that was just the way she liked it.

She now lay on her back, staring up at the red and white checkered canopy. It was late, nearly midnight. The wind howled furiously outside. She thought of her father. He had left for Yorktown that morning on business and still wasn't back. "I hope he wasn't stopped by the storm," she thought. It was a cold and snowy night, not ideal travel conditions. She thought back to the war, that long war that had been going on since she was ten. She used to think about Ben on nights like this. She always hoped that he was warm enough. Thank goodness all of that was behind them. The most frightening was when the fighting broke out in Williamsburg. Everyone feared for their lives, and with good reason. Many innocent civilians were killed, including one of Father's close friends. The house Elizabeth's family used to live in was burned down, and though it was empty, Elizabeth couldn't help but cry a little. One couldn't go outside without seeing blood and gore splattered on the ground. Much of their time was spent in the cellar, that dank, cold cellar. Mr. Merriman once went out just to get some fresh bread and didn't return for hours. Those hours had been the hardest hours his family had ever waited. William and Mary became a fighting ground. The palace became a hospital. The world had never seemed so dark, and to top it all off, none of the soldiers in Williamsburg were Ben. Then again, he had probably died already. Thankfully, those days were behind them, but those memories would haunt her forever. The day the British surrendered had become one of the happiest days of her life just because nobody had to worry about their loved ones or themselves being killed. It was the happiest day of Elizabeth's life as well, but for a far happier reason. In the history of America, October nineteenth, 1781 would be remembered as the day the British surrendered. For Caleb and Elizabeth McClellan, it would be remembered as their wedding anniversary. Felicity smiled to herself. It still felt funny to say Elizabeth McClellan instead of Elizabeth Cole. It had a nice ring to it, though. It was as she thought of this that she heard something from downstairs. She heard her mother's voice cry out in delight, then her father's voice. "Father's home!" she thought happily. Nan mumbled something about dogs and threw an arm across her. Felicity pushed it off and sat up. She heard another voice, a strange voice, yet one that sounded vaguely familiar. She got up and slid on her slippers, then crept down the dark hallway and down the stairs to investigate.

From the banister, she saw her parents, and a man sitting across from them. Felicity frowned. Who was he? Mr. Merriman saw her and smiled. "Lissie!" he said. "What are you doing up?"  
"I heard you come in," she explained, coming into the parlor. She glanced at the man. He looked so familiar, yet she couldn't place him. "We have company," said Father. "I see that," she answered, still not averting her eyes from him. The stranger grinned. "Why, Lissie," he said. "Don't you recognize me?" She frowned. How did he know her name? Her nickname at that? She narrowed her eyes. There was something in his eyes, his smile...and suddenly, she knew exactly what business her father had had in Yorktown. Her eyes widened in realization. For a second, she was actually speechless. Finally, she murmured, "Oh God!" Foregoing any acts of lady, she ran to him and threw her arms around him. "Felicity!" Mrs. Merriman scolded. "Your nightgown!" "It's all right," Ben laughed, embracing her kindly. "I don't mind." Felicity buried her face in his shirt. "Oh God," she cried again. "Oh God, Benjamin Davidson, is it really you?"  
"Yes, Lissie," he said, holding her closer. "It's me." She didn't mean to, but she felt a few tears fall from her eyes. He let go and frowned. "Are you crying?" he asked. She laughed at herself. "I can't help it," she said. "It really is you!" He smiled and held her close again. "Lissie, Lissie," he said. "Don't cry so. I'm home now." She just nodded against his chest. Then he said, "I'm probably the last person you expected to see."  
"The last on earth!" she agreed with a laugh and looking up at him. "Oh Ben, for months now I've thought you were- you were-"  
"Dead?" he finished. "You had good reason to."  
"I never thought I'd see you again!" she said. "And now I am, and you're alive, and-and-and I'm so happy I can barely speak! Well, I can speak, because I'm doing so right now, but not very well, and-and-oh, forget it. I'm babbling."  
"You're tired, Felicity," said Mother. "You should go back to bed."  
"But Ben just got back!" she protested. "Ben needs to rest, as you do," said Father. "As all of us do. He will still be here in the morning, and you can catch up then." Ben looked at Felicity, then said, "I think I can stay up a little longer. It _has_ been four years, after all." Mother and Father glanced at each other. Then Father said, "Not too late, Lissie, he's had a long day."  
"Yes Father," Felicity agreed. They said goodnight and went upstairs. Now that it was just the two of them, Felicity got a chance to really study Ben. He was a bit taller, and his body had filled out to that of a man's. His voice had gotten a little deeper, but there was something about him that was really different. She frowned, then, upon realizing it, exclaimed, "Your hair!" Indeed, the once reddish-brown hair that had reached his shoulders in his teen years was now not only a darker brown, it had been cut short as well. Actually, it reminded her of how she had always pictured Romeo to look like, which was ironic because over the course of those four years she occasionally thought, "O Benjamin, Benjamin, wherefore art thou Benjamin?"  
"I know, I know," he groaned. "Twas all my sister's doing. She cut it when I was fast asleep and sick."  
"Why?" she asked. "Did you have lice?" He shook his head. "No," he answered. "Surprisingly." She shyly fingered the short strands. "Well, I like it," she said. "It makes you look more like a man." Then she replayed his words. "And what do you mean sick?" He sighed and sat on the sofa. She sat next to him. "Exactly that," he said. "For starters, I was injured in Yorktown, right before the British surrender-"  
"We know," she interrupted. "Your old 'friend', shall we say, Diana, wrote us all about it. What a small world it is, you reuniting with her again! Anyway, she said that you didn't have a good chance of survival, and that's why we assumed you dead when you didn't come home until now. That was very sweet of her to give you all that care and attention! Tis almost fate, it may seem!" A frown crossed his face. "Indeed," he said stiffly. "Anyway, I was shot in my right arm, and no, I have no noble or heroic story as to why I was shot; I simply wasn't paying attention. It was right below my shoulder, and it nearly had to be amputated. Well, obviously it didn't; the doctor was able to save it. Then I fell dangerously ill and was in the hospital until the British surrendered. Then I went home and, it took nearly two weeks for the fever to break. It took almost a month for me to get strong again, and meanwhile my sister was at home and pregnant, so I stayed until the baby was born. That was five days ago, and now I'm here." Felicity was quiet, then said, "Well, that certainly sounds like an...interesting last few months." Ben grinned. "To say the least," he said. Then he added, "It's nice to see you again, Felicity. I've missed you these past few years."  
"And I you," she said. "You have no idea how much!" She hugged him again. "Have I changed at all?"  
"Have you changed?" he laughed. "Felicity Merriman, have you seen yourself lately? You're a real young lady now! The next thing we know, you'll be married and bouncing a baby on your knee."  
"And the same could be said of you," she said. "How old are you now, twenty-two? I hardly recognized you!"  
"I noticed," he said.  
"Oh well, it doesn't matter," she said. "You're home, safe and sound. Oh Ben, promise you'll never leave again?"  
"I'll have to when my apprenticeship is up," he pointed out. She pffed. "That's two years away," she said. "For now, I'm just glad to have you back."  
"Tis good to be back," he said. "I didn't think I'd see Williamsburg again."  
"Well, you are," she said. "You're back now with me, with us." She pressed herself even closer to him. "Welcome home, my brave soldier."

She didn't want to leave him; she wanted to sit up with him all night long and hear all of his war stories. Soon, though, she could tell that he was starting to get tired, so they said goodnight. She was too excited to go to sleep, though. Ben was alive! And home! He was really and truly home! And after all those years...she felt like Penelope who had just beheld her Odysseus after twenty years without seeing him. Well, Ben was no Odysseus; he was gone for four years, not twenty, he didn't have a reputation for being the wisest man on earth, as far as she knew he didn't run into a cyclops or witch who turned everyone into animals on his way back, and she and he were not married, nor would they ever be. Still, Felicity liked the analogy. Soon, sleep overcame her, and as she drifted off to the land of dreams, she saw Ben's face, smiling at her as if to say, "I'm here for good. Don't worry." She then fell asleep with a sweet smile on her face, thinking about him.

She made sure to get up early the next morning to help with breakfast, and to see him sooner. The other children were glad to see their father back, and surprised to see Ben. They didn't recognize him at first, then Nan gasped, "Benjamin Davidson!" Only Polly didn't remember him, being that she hadn't even been two when he left. Naturally, everyone wanted to hear his stories until finally Mrs. Merriman said, "That's enough now, let him eat. You'll have plenty of time later to catch up." Throughout breakfast, Nan and her parents made small talk with him, William stared at him admiringly (after all, Ben had been a soldier and _twenty-two_, which in William's mind deserved the utmost respect), and Polly seemed a bit shy of him. When she did speak, she called him Mr. Davidson. Felicity was quiet throughout the meal, not taking her eyes off of him. In her ecstasy the night before, she had not noticed the change in his appearance. He looked older, not like an old man, but not like the boy he had been. He was handsome, strikingly so. She remembered how she had made him promise to not come home engaged. She was actually a bit surprised that he didn't come home with anyone, fiancé, wife, or just sweetheart. Honestly, she would have expected for something to spark with Diana again. He was definitely handsome enough. His eyes were dark, as was his hair. His skin was tanned from the sun, and she couldn't help but notice his lips. They were full, the kind that made one want to kiss them quickly. She blushed at this thought and shoved it down. The thought of kissing Ben made her feel jittery all over. This wasn't a wealthy gentleman or a foreign prince; this was just Ben, always and forever.

Everyone who knew him was glad to see Ben. The next day, Felicity ran to Elizabeth's house to tell her the good news. Elizabeth didn't believe her at first. "Prove it," she said. "I won't believe it until I see it."  
"Aren't you quite the doubting Thomas," Felicity joked. "But Elizabeth, I swear to you on my life, Ben Davidson is alive and well and working in his rightful place in my father's store!"  
"But the war ended three months ago!" said Elizabeth. "Why didn't he come home then?"  
"Because he was in Yorktown when it ended and was dangerously sick," Felicity answered. "So he recovered there until now. He just got home the night before last."  
"And why wasn't he working yesterday?" Elizabeth retorted. "I stopped by to pick up some more ginger and it was only William and your father there."  
"Father gave him the day off because he had just gotten home," said Felicity. "But he is working now, and he is safe and alive, and, and, well, just see for yourself."  
"Lissie, I've got dinner on!" protested Elizabeth. "I've no time now, I'm sorry. And I still don't believe you."  
"Then come and see," Felicity urged. "Dinner can wait."  
"No, Lissie," said Elizabeth, but Felicity was already dragging her out the door.

Five minutes later, they stood at the entrance of the store. "Felicity, honestly," said Elizabeth. "Can't this wait?"  
"Not unless you believe me," Felicity shot back. "Now do you?"  
"No."  
"Then come on!" She dragged her inside and pointed at the counter. "Lissie, really," groaned Elizabeth, then she followed her friend's gaze. She frowned. "Is it-is that-" Felicity grinned and nodded. "I told you so," she said smugly. Elizabeth gaped. "He's-he's-" she stammered. Ben looked over at them, and Felicity dragged Elizabeth over. "Elizabeth didn't believe me when I told her you had come home," she told him. "Will you please tell her otherwise?" "That's all right," said Elizabeth quickly. "I can see that it is indeed you." Ben smiled politely. "How do you do, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked. "You've certainly grown."  
"I _am_ married," she informed him.  
"I know," he said. "Felicity told me. Congratulations, by the way."  
"Thank you," she said. "You look...well. And how are you?"  
"Very well, thank you," he replied. "Happy to be alive." She smiled a little. "I imagine," she said. "Have you any idea how worried Felicity was about you while you were gone? Everyday, Ben this, Ben that! I was surprised that she didn't disguise herself as a boy and join the army with you!" Felicity felt herself turn bright red. Ben gave her a sideways glance. "So I've heard," he said. An awkward silence followed. Then Elizabeth said, "Well, you have grown up so much that I don't know if I should call you Ben or Mr. Davidson." Ben smiled a little. "And the same could be said of you, Elizabeth," he said. "Or Mrs. McClellan." Elizabeth giggled a little, and Felicity cringed. "Well, Elizabeth, I have proved to you that Ben has really come home," she said to cut off her girlish giggling. "And now you have to get back to making dinner."  
"Oh, dinner can wait," said Elizabeth, not taking her eyes off Ben. "No," Felicity hissed. "It can't." Elizabeth looked at her. "Yes," she said. "It can." Ben cleared his throat. "That's all right," he said. "I've still got some work to do." "And so do we," said Felicity. "We don't want to leave Caleb with no dinner tonight, do we?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Certainly not," she said. She bobbed a curtsy. "It was lovely to see you again, Ben. I am so glad you came home safely."  
"It was nice to see you too, Miss Elizabeth," he said. "And once again, congratulations on your marriage." She smiled again. "Thank you," she said. "Goodbye."  
"I'll see you at home," Felicity said to Ben, then grabbed Elizabeth's arm and pulled her along with her out the door.

Once outside, Elizabeth turned to Felicity, eyes wide. "Oh my goodness!" she half whispered. "Felicity Merriman! You didn't mention how handsome he's gotten!"  
"Handsome?" asked Felicity. "Well, yes, I suppose he is good-looking."  
"Good-looking?" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Why, he's like a prince out of a fairy tale!"  
"I wouldn't go _that_ far, Elizabeth," Felicity laughed. "I would," said Elizabeth, trying to pop her head back in to get another glimpse of him. Felicity pulled her back. "Elizabeth!" she scolded. "You're married!"  
"I'm still allowed to find other men handsome, aren't I?" she said. "As long as I don't act upon that. Not that I would."  
"Just don't giggle," said Felicity. "You sound like a thirteen-year-old."  
"I'm sorry," Elizabeth apologized. "Tis a bad habit, like you biting your nails. Anyway, oh Felicity, those eyes! Those lips! How can one not* find him handsome? He will be married in no time flat! Well, once he figures out that all of the girls hanging around the store are trying to get his attention."  
"Elizabeth," said Felicity. "The only girls who come in are you, me, Nan, and Polly. The rest are just girls running errands for their mothers. And you shouldn't let Caleb hear you say that, either. He will get jealous." Elizabeth grinned. "I said Ben was handsome," she said. "But my Caleb is still the fairest of them all." Felicity laughed. "And speaking of which," she said. "You need to get home before his dinner goes up in smoke!"

The whole "just Ben, always and forever" thing started to change. Over the first few weeks he was home, Felicity started to notice a change in him. He was more quiet than usual, for one thing. True, Ben had always been a man of few words, but now he seemed even more so. She never had time to talk to him, and when she did, he gave short, abrupt answers. He went to work and was pleasant with customers, but once at home went his own way and she really didn't see him much except at mealtimes. She couldn't help but notice that he didn't smile as much, he didn't laugh very often, and he never whistled anymore. He seemed older, much older than just twenty-two. Colder, somehow, bitter. One day, close to Valentine's Day, Felicity sat in her father's store, helping them close up for the night. Drowning troubles in rock candy was more like it. Mr. Merriman was working in the back, Ben was writing something in one of the ledger books, and Marcus was sweeping. "The older I get," Felicity rambled in between bites of candy. "The more I can't stand Valentine's Day. It's only a day when couples get to rub it in that they're so 'madly in love' and make single people feel bad that they have no one."  
"Drowning your troubles in candy won't help," said Ben, not looking up. "It will only give you an upset stomach and rot your teeth, not to mention mess up the books." Felicity stopped eating. "Couples just annoy me in general," she said, continuing her monologue. "They are forever hugging and kissing and staring at each other so pathetically, and Valentine's Day just makes it worse. Love is a beautiful thing, but not overly expressed. When I fall in love-if I fall in love-I'll try to be practical about it."  
"Somehow, I don't think 'practical' and 'Felicity' go together very well," Marcus teased. Felicity grinned. "Well, maybe not," she agreed. "But I won't constantly kiss him or anything, and never in public. There is much more to love than kissing and touching. I'd much rather have a love that's deep and soulful, not shallow and 'romantic'. Wouldn't you, Ben?"  
"No," he replied flatly, dipping his pen in the inkwell. "I find love foolish and a waste of time."  
"I don't," she said. "Not if it's real, which I've yet to experience. I know what the shallow kind feels like. You probably do too, what with Diana a couple of years ago." He looked up, and his face clouded over. "Like I said," he said. "Foolish and a waste of time."  
"Not necessarily," she said. She smiled. "She used to make you so happy back then. I still remember when you whispered to me that you kissed her. You sounded so proud! I remember-"  
"Felicity, I'm busy, he interrupted. "And your constant chatter is distracting." She frowned. What had gotten into him? "Fine," she said coldly. She caught Marcus's eye, and he shrugged. "I don't know," his face said. "Here, Marcus," she offered. "I'll finish sweeping and you can dust."  
"Very well," he agreed, giving her the broom. She started sweeping the floor, then looked back at Ben, still bent over the ledger. "Unless the swish of the broom annoys you," she said coolly. Ben frowned and opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it and resumed his writing. Felicity frowned as well and turned back to her sweeping. The three worked in silence until it was time to go home.

After this and other incidents of this sort, the change in Ben became more and more apparent. He was pleasant with customers and Mother and Father, he was gentle with the children, and he was polite enough to Felicity, but there was a stiffness to him that hadn't been there before. He didn't interact with them much anymore, despite Felicity's best efforts. He had changed, and not necessarily for the better. "How about that?" thought Felicity. "You wait four years for someone to come home, and when he does, he's old and boring. And now I'm stuck with him for another two years."


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 12_

A couple of months passed by. Felicity's seventeenth birthday came and went rather quietly. She and Ben didn't speak much anymore, which disappointed her a little, but she had other things to worry about. For one thing, she had been invited to Lady Templeton's annual midsummer ball, and while most girls would walk on air at an invitation like this, Felicity found it as just another frivolous occasion to have to worry over a dress, her hair, and her manners. Just another occasion to act dumb and docile to impress the higher class. Elizabeth had also been invited, and her reaction was the exact opposite of her friend's. The ball was a month away, and she had already decided how to do her hair and what earrings she was going to wear. One afternoon, Felicity paid her a visit, and the ball was all she could talk about. "And the dress I'm going to wear!" she babbled on. "Oh Felicity, wait until you see it! Tis a lovely shade of blue; blue goes so well with my hair, don't you think? And the earrings are little sapphires. My mother gave them to me as a farewell and wedding present. I could tell that she was sorry to leave me behind, and she really was pleased that I was getting married, God bless her. And speaking of marriage, this will be the first ball I attend with my husband, not just some stuffy escort my father paid! By the way, you do have an escort, don't you?" "Not as of yet," answered Felicity, taking a sip of the tea Elizabeth had made. "My father, most likely."  
"Was Nan invited?" Elizabeth asked. Felicity smiled a little. "No, she was not," she answered. "I feel bad for her, the poor dear. She was so envious when I got the invitation. But I suppose it's for older people anyway. This is the first time I've been invited."  
"Mine too," said Elizabeth. Then she grinned. "But...if Nan wasn't invited, and it is just you who needs an escort...why not have Ben do it?" Now Felicity laughed. "What?" asked Elizabeth. "He has to plenty of things before."  
"Not in years," said Felicity. "Things were different then. And besides, what does Ben escorting me have to do with Nan not being invited?"  
"Because," said Elizabeth. "You'd have him all to yourself."  
"And why would I want that?" Felicity laughed. "Can you imagine how awkward that would be?" Elizabeth frowned. "Awkward?" she asked. "How so?" Then a sly smile spread across her face. "Ohhh, I know why," she said. "You like him!"  
"I do not!" Felicity protested. "I absolutely do not! I'm just saying it would be awkward because he hasn't been acting like his old self, and I don't like it."  
"How so?"  
"I don't know," she said. "He's just more quiet, colder than he used to be."  
"He's just gotten older," said Elizabeth. "But that shouldn't keep you two apart. Ben escorting you makes all the sense in the world. He's home now, he's the perfect age-"  
"The perfect age for what?" Felicity asked.  
"For you!" said Elizabeth. "The age difference isn't so apparent anymore. He's the perfect age for an eligible beau."  
"Slow down!" exclaimed Felicity. "How did we get from escort to beau?"  
"Lissie, just think of it!" said Elizabeth. "He's old enough for his own career, old enough to be able to provide for a family-"  
"He has to finish his apprenticeship first," Felicity interrupted.  
"But after that," Elizabeth continued. "He would be perfect for you!"  
"And you get all this from him escorting me to a ball?" asked Felicity. Elizabeth shrugged. "Many people end up with beaus after a ball," she said. "That's what happened to Caleb and me. You two would make a lovely couple!"  
"Elizabeth," Felicity laughed. "Ben and I would in no way make a lovely couple. We are too different. Besides, I don't want it, and I know he doesn't."  
"I think you do," said Elizabeth with a grin. "I don't," Felicity argued. "And it's not going to happen!"  
"Fine," said Elizabeth. "But at least ask him to be your escort. Nothing has to happen."  
"I'll ask him," Felicity promised. "And nothing will happen, I assure you that."

A couple of days later, she asked him. It was a warm evening, and she found him sitting under the apple tree writing something. "Hello," she said cheerfully. "Evening," he replied without looking up. She sat next to him and peered over his shoulder. "Who are you writing to?" He leaned his head against the tree and closed his eyes. "Must you know everything?" he asked. "Yes," she answered. He opened his eyes again. "Well, if you must know," he said. "One of my friends from the army, Daniel." She nodded. "He was the one with the sister who laughed when you told her that I wasn't much of a seamstress, wasn't he?" Ben looked up. "How did you remember that?" he asked. Felicity shrugged. "I have a good memory," she said. He cracked a tiny smile. "I barely remembered that," he said. Then he asked, "Did you want something?"  
"Actually, I did," she answered. "Do you remember that I was invited to Lady Templeton's midsummer ball?" He nodded. "Well," she continued. "Naturally, I need an escort, and I'm getting tired of Father doing it, so I was wondering-" she paused and took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you would be willing to escort me?" He looked at her and blinked, and for a second she started to regret asking. Then he nodded. "All right," he agreed slowly. "If you want me to." She smiled in relief. "Thank you," she said. "I would have just had Father take me, but tis a bit embarrassing when your escort is your father, and he's not the most fun, and you're here, so I just thought-"  
"Felicity, relax," he interrupted. "I'll take you; it's fine."  
"You don't mind?"  
"Not at all."  
"Thank you." She looked over his shoulder again. "That's a long letter," she remarked.  
"I haven't seen him since October," he said. "A lot has happened."  
"Such as?"  
"What I've told you."  
"You haven't told me much at all," she said. "You don't talk to me that much at all anymore."  
"What's there to talk about?" he asked. "You seem to have a lot to talk about with _him_," she said coolly.  
"We have more in common," he said. "You and I don't."  
"We never did in the first place," she said. "Yet we still were good friends." "Things change, I guess," he said simply.

"They didn't have to!" she exclaimed. "You're the one who's been acting so-so-all right, I can't think of a good adverb, but it's not good! You think you're so much older than me and wiser and you're so high and mighty because you fought in a war and-"

"Will you leave me in peace?" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "My God, Felicity, you're driving me crazy!" She frowned and stood up. "Well, you've been driving me crazy too," she said. "I just feel as though I've lost you."  
"I'm sitting right next to you."  
"That's not what I meant." She spun on her heel and walked away with as much dignity as she could muster. "By the way," called Ben. "It's an adjective, not an adverb!" Felicity clenched her fists in annoyance and anger. Benjamin!

"Miss Felicity?" asked Rose when Felicity stormed into the kitchen to help clean up after supper. "Is everything all right?"  
"He makes me so angry!" Felicity exclaimed, beginning to furiously scrub a china plate. "Who?" asked Nan.  
"Ben," her sister replied. "He is so-so-ugh, I can't even think of a good word to describe him!"  
"What did he do?" asked Mrs. Merriman a bit nervously.  
"He's so short and abrupt with me!" Felicity complained. "And when I very gently point this out to him, he gets angry and snaps at me! I can't even remark that he seems to have more to say to his friend in a letter than he does to me!"  
"Well, don't take it out on that poor plate," said Rose. "You're about to break it." Felicity looked down, then set the plate on the table. "Lissie," said Mother. "You weren't reading over his shoulder while he was writing to someone, were you?" Felicity reddened. "I was just curious," she said sheepishly. Mrs. Merriman closed her eyes. "Felicity," she scolded. "What have I told you about snooping in other people's business?"

"That it's rude and I should just mind my own," answered her daughter. "But it wasn't as if he was writing anything important, anyway."  
"How do you know?" asked Nan. "Besides, important or not, tis none of your business."  
"Felicity," sighed her mother. "You are seventeen years old, yet you have the mindset of a seven year old. You need to start acting like the young lady I know you are, which means not getting into other's business and not arguing with them."  
"I'm sorry," she muttered.  
"Good," said Mrs. Merriman. "Now go help Polly clear the table."

A few days later, Felicity found a better person to vent to. "I just don't understand it," she complained as Elizabeth listened politely. "He's never acted like this before." Elizabeth looked up from her stitching. "It could be because of the war," she suggested. "War often turns people bitter, especially when they've been on the front lines and even wounded."  
"But he's fine now," said Felicity. "He's not crippled."  
"Not physically," said Elizabeth. "But perhaps he feels crippled. Besides, he has grown up, just as you and I have. Age changes people."  
"Still," said Felicity. "He doesn't have to act like a grumpy old man."  
"He's not," said Elizabeth. "You just think that because you're the one who was closest to him. I think he just needs to warm up a little. He's seen a lot; it may take him some time to open up." She then smiled a little. "He's like a spring crocus," she said. "He still thinks it's winter, and he's afraid to open back up again for fear of getting hurt. Soon, though, he will realize that it's spring, and he will bloom again, more beautiful than ever." Felicity raised an eyebrow. "Are you daft?" she asked. "Because that is officially the strangest thing you have ever said."  
"I'm just making comparisons," said Elizabeth. "Think of him as a flower in your garden. You can't rush him to bloom; he has to on his own time. He will, just be patient." At that moment, Caleb came home. "Darling?" he called. "In the parlor," Elizabeth called back. He appeared in the doorway and smiled. "Hello, love," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, Felicity."  
"Good day," Felicity replied. "I think your wife is delirious." Caleb smiled and looked at Elizabeth. "And why is that?"  
"She is likening people to flowers." He laughed and kissed his wife again. "That's my girl," he said. Elizabeth smiled at him, then looked back at Felicity. "Lissie, would you like to stay for supper? I still have to make it, but you're more than welcome to stay." "Nay, I'd best be getting home," replied Felicity, gathering her things. "My mother will need my help with our own supper. Thank you, though."  
"Another time, then," said Elizabeth. Felicity nodded. "Absolutely," she agreed. "Goodbye."  
"Remember," Elizabeth called after her. "Crocus in bloom!"  
"I know!" Felicity called back. On her way out, she heard Caleb ask, "A what?" and Elizabeth sigh, "Tis a long story, dear."

Felicity tried to take Elizabeth's metaphor to heart. She gave Ben his space and spent her time helping out at home. One afternoon, Mother had a few friends over for tea, and naturally Felicity and Nan were expected to sit and chat politely. Nan was happy to be included in adult lady discussions, but her sister rather dreaded it. The conversations were too prim and stiff, topics of "general interest", as Miss Manderly used to say, which no one really cared for (though they would never admit it). Really, what was so interesting about the price of lace? Never was there a good gossip, not even from Mrs. Fitchett. Felicity sighed as she pinned up her long curly hair. Frowning, she undid it, then tried again. It still looked a mess. What a nuisance it was! How she wished she could just cut it short; then she wouldn't have to worry about pinning it up and it looking nice. But no, she was a young lady. Young ladies had long hair. She tried once more, and, somewhat satisfied with the outcome, added a pinner cap on top. She sighed again as she looked at herself in the mirror. Another tedious afternoon, full of sitting still, pinching corsets (and she had thought the stays were bad!), and dull conversation. What fun.

"Lissie!" exclaimed Mrs. Merriman when she came downstairs. "Your hair is a mess! Here." She reached over and adjusted Felicity's curls. "There. Now you don't look so much like a lamb."  
"Mother," said Felicity. "What does it matter if a few curls are out of place or my hem is uneven? Will it really make that big of a difference?"  
"You are a lady, Felicity," said her mother, straightening her daughter's skirt. "You must always look your best, nothing out of place. You don't want other ladies to think you don't know how to dress yourself."  
"Why don't boys have to worry about how they look or dress?" Felicity asked. "They just wear a shirt and breeches everyday, and nobody judges them for that."  
"Men aren't as catty as women," said Mother. "And if they are, it means they are some stuck-up wealthy man. Men just have it easier than us, I suppose." "That doesn't seem fair," Felicity remarked. Mrs. Merriman smiled sadly. "Of course it's not fair," she said. "We're women." Then there was a knock on the door. "There they are," said Mrs. Merriman. "Call Nan down, will you?"

The afternoon was just what Felicity had expected. The ladies chatted about prices in fabric, the weather, and their daughter's weddings, which was the only remotely interesting subject. "My Katherine's upcoming wedding is all she can talk about!" said Mrs. Tanner. "I told my husband that we should wait to arrange a marriage for her, but he insisted, and she wanted to as well. Gregory is such a gentleman! The two have only met three times, but tis a fine match. She shall be comfortable for the rest of her life, as wealthy as he is." Here Felicity asked, "How do they feel about each other?"  
"They get along," replied Mrs. Tanner simply. "Katherine picked out a beautiful green for her wedding gown. And she wants a big feast with rare roast beef and goose and cakes and tarts and everything else you can think of!"  
"We only had sons," said Mrs. Wentworth. "I never got the joy of helping my daughter plan her wedding."

"Tis not always a joy," laughed Mrs. Fitchett. "When Christina got married, I had nightmares for months planning it!" Then she looked at Felicity and Nan and smiled. "And when will our lovely Merriman girls be planning one?"  
"Not for a while," said Nan. "I'm not allowed to court until I'm fifteen."  
"I don't want them to get married until they are at least eighteen," said Mrs. Merriman. "But our Lissie is seventeen, a pretty age to be courted and even engaged."  
"Oh yes," agreed Mrs. Tanner. "You and your husband should start looking for eligible gentlemen, Martha. Otherwise they will all be snapped up."  
"Actually," said Felicity. "I'd rather pick for myself." Mrs. Wentworth smiled. "Of course, dear," she said. "As long as he's got money." Felicity frowned. "Well," she said. "Money isn't really the main reason why I would marry." Mrs. Tanner frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"  
"I think love is more important than money," said Felicity thoughtfully. "I'd rather be poor and happy than rich and miserable." The ladies looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and Felicity knew exactly what they were thinking. "But you would have a higher status," pointed out Mrs. Wentworth. "And all the pretty things your heart desired." "Marriage isn't about love, Felicity," said Mrs. Tanner. "That's only in fairy tales. In reality, you marry for money. Otherwise, you have nothing."  
"I don't care," said Felicity fervently. "You would have love. I'd rather be happy in my marriage, whether my husband is a wealthy lord or my father's apprentice." The ladies shared another look. "Miss Merriman," said Mrs. Tanner. "You aim to marry for status and fortune. You don't interact with your husband much, because as a wife your job is to keep house and bear children. That is the life of woman."  
"It shouldn't have to be," said Felicity. "I don't believe women should always have to act dumb and docile. We have brains, and we can use them, if the men would let us. A woman should have more of a life than cooking, cleaning, and raising children." Mrs. Wentworth gave Mother a look. "Martha," she started to say. "I think what Felicity means," Mrs. Merriman interrupted. "Is that while a woman's place is in the home, that doesn't mean she doesn't have a brain so that she has to bow down to her husband's every wish and command. Isn't that right, dear?"  
"Aye," said Felicity. The ladies looked at each other. "Well," Mrs. Fittchet said finally. "That is certainly an interesting opinion, Miss Felicity. And now, on another subject, can you believe all this rain we've been having?" Everyone murmured in agreement. Felicity glanced at Mrs. Fitchett, who gave her a barely-there wink. Felicity smiled and mouthed, "Thank you."

"Felicity!" Nan scolded a while later. The ladies had left, and now Felicity, Nan, Mrs. Merriman, and Rose were clearing the table. "Why on earth would you say something like that? Especially in front of them?"  
"Something like what?" asked Felicity. "'I'd rather marry for love'," Nan mimicked. "'I'd rather be happy and poor than rich and miserable. I think women should be able to do more than sit around looking pretty'."  
"Well, wouldn't you?" asked Felicity.  
"Of course!" said Nan. "We all would! But we don't say it out loud. Now they think that you can't control your tongue!"  
"I was merely stating my opinion," said Felicity. "I shall not be ashamed of that."  
"Lissie," sighed Mother. "There is nothing wrong with that. But that temper was starting to come out again, and I don't want you to be judged for not being able to control it. A lady keeps quiet, or at least states her views quietly and with poise." Felicity sighed. "Between having to be stuffed in itchy dresses and worrying about hair and taking tiny steps and speaking softly and not being able to freely talk about our opinions, tis a wonder we can even breathe!" she remarked.  
"Oh Lissie," said Nan. "Of course ladies can breathe! Just not overly so." Felicity stared at her sister blankly, then just shook her head.

Too soon, the ball rolled around. Mother splurged and made a new ball gown for Felicity. It was a deep emerald green, which complimented her hair and eyes very nicely. Despite the fact that Felicity usually hated anything that was ladylike, she did appreciate new ball gowns, which were a rare treat. She liked to feel pretty, even if it meant her corset was digging into her sides and restricted her breathing. She also enjoyed dancing; it was much more fun than sitting around and having some dull conversation with Mrs. Tanner's daughter. As she pulled on the cloud of green silk, Nan and Polly sighed. "Oh Lissie," said Nan. "I'm so envious of you!" "Tis a shame you can't come," said Felicity. "But truthfully, I think I will be one of the youngest there. It probably wouldn't be very interesting for you." She got her arms through the sleeves and straightened the skirt. "Oooh, Lissie!" squealed Polly. "You look like a princess!" Mother smiled and started to pin up Felicity's hair. "She will be the loveliest there, I'm sure," she said. "The belle of the ball."  
"Mother," said Felicity. "That worked when I was ten. You don't have to say those things anymore."  
"I'm just proud of you," said Mrs. Merriman, tucking a comb in to keep her hair up. "And people would have to be mad to not find you pretty." Felicity turned pink with pleasure. Her corset was digging into her sides, her slippers were pinching her toes, but right now she didn't mind. She did feel beautiful. Not "the belle of the ball", but pretty. In a young woman kind of way. Mrs. Merriman adjusted one more curl and stepped back as Felicity pulled on her gloves. She smiled. "There," she said. "You, my pretty one, are set to rights. Now make us proud."  
"Don't forget to speak softly," said Nan. "And not to eat too much."  
"Or too little," added Mother. "And don't forget to walk with little steps and to keep your eyes averted down."  
"Smile and laugh softly," said Nan. "But don't over do it."  
"And remember to dance pretty," reminded Polly. "That's why you go to a ball!" Felicity smiled. "I'll do that, Polly," she promised.  
"And don't forget," added Mother. Felicity turned. "You are my daughter, and no matter what you say or do, we love you very much and will forever." Felicity smiled again. Mother kissed her cheek, then said, "Now away with you. Ben is waiting downstairs."  
"Have a good time!" called Nan.  
"Tell me about it when you come home!" said Polly.  
"I will!" said Felicity to both of them. "Good night!"

Ben was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. He smiled a little when he saw her. "You look nice," he said.  
"You do too," she said. And he did, though he was just in his Sunday best. His hair was combed, and his face was clean-shaven. "The riding chair is already around front," he said. "Are you ready to go?" She nodded. They said goodnight to Mr. and Mrs. Merriman and the children, then left.

Felicity felt nervous as she and Ben entered the huge mansion, and she was grateful to have him by her side. She gripped his elbow tighter as they walked through the great doors. After she saw Lord and Lady Templeton and thanked them for their invitation, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Elizabeth. Abandoning her escort, she hurried over to her. Elizabeth smiled when she saw her. "Don't you look lovely!" she complimented. "That is a beautiful shade of green!"  
"Thank you," said Felicity. "You look pretty too." Elizabeth beamed. Her light blue dress, though simple, complimented her eyes nicely. Her blonde hair was twisted up in cool and becoming style, and her face had the youthful glow of a young wife. Then she whispered, "That's not Ben, is it?"  
"Aye," said Felicity. "He dresses well when he has to, doesn't he?"  
"If I didn't know better," said Elizabeth. "I'd say that he was the son of a governor!" Felicity shrugged. Changing the subject, she asked, "Where is Caleb?" "I think he went to get something to drink," answered Elizabeth. "I worry about him, a little. He's never exactly associated with these kind of people."  
"He will be a perfect gentleman, I'm sure," said Felicity. "And if he doesn't, just remember that he has a good heart. That's far better than a wealthy gentleman with no soul."  
"And that is why," said Elizabeth. "I married him despite my parents' disapproval." The music started to play, and she said, "Now I better find him and force him to dance with me."  
"And I'll sit over there until someone asks me," said Felicity. "In other words, I may be a wallflower all night."  
"No you won't," Elizabeth assured her. "Besides, you can always get Ben to dance with you." Felicity laughed. "I think I have a better chance of making it to France," she said.

The evening wore on. Felicity participated in some of the dances, and others she sat out. Most of the time, she was engaged in some dull conversation regarding the weather or something else just as mundane. When everyone sat down to eat, it only got worse. The conversation was mostly regarding the men, and the women were, for the most part, to be "seen and not heard." Felicity tried her hardest to sit still and smile politely, but it was hard. She stifled a yawn as she picked at her food. "Eat _something_," hissed Elizabeth next to her. "You don't want people to think you don't like the food!" And when Felicity dug into the roast beef, Elizabeth whispered, "Slow down! You don't want people to think you a pig!" And then there was her conversation. When one of the ladies asked her something and she replied with a simple "yes", Elizabeth said, "Elaborate! You don't want them to think you don't know how to converse!" And when one of the men complained that his wife was always trying to put in her "worthless two cents" and Felicity quietly pointed out that a woman had every right to her opinion as a man, Elizabeth scolded, "Hold your tongue! You don't want them to think that you don't know your place!" So Felicity said not another word for the rest of the meal.

After supper, more dancing commenced. As a slower waltz started to play, Felicity opted to sit out and watch the couples whirl across the dance floor. As she watched Elizabeth and Caleb, she overheard the conversation of two older women. "Such a shame," said one of them. "She could have had a lovely gentleman, and look what she got stuck with."  
"The older Cole girl most definitely made the smarter match," said the other. "And so could the younger one, had she used her brain instead of her emotions. Now look what she's got to show for it; the wife of a simple carpenter. I wonder how they even were invited tonight!" Felicity felt her face grow hot as she realized that the woman they were talking about was Elizabeth. "Indeed," agreed the first. "This is for the wealthy, not the lower class."  
"Elizabeth is hardly lower class!" Felicity wanted to yell, but she knew to keep her mouth shut. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw the second glance her way. "And then there's Miss Merriman," she heard her say. "Tis a shame she has no one to dance with." "Indeed," agreed the first. "She is a pretty girl; she shouldn't be a wallflower."  
"She speaks her mind too much," said the second, and Felicity felt her cheeks grow even hotter. "The Merrimans have tried their best to turn her into a lady, but it just didn't work. I hate to think of her as the disappointment child. Her sister Miss Nancy is coming along quite well, from what I can see." Now Felicity felt as though she had been slapped. "Perhaps there is hope for her yet," said the first. "If Mr. Merriman plays his cards right, I'll bet he can get her married off quickly to some wealthy gentleman and have to worry about one less child."  
"As long as she doesn't get it into her mind to fall in love with an indentured servant and run away with him," laughed the second. "Honestly, I think she is hanging on by a thread to society. If you are not a lady, you are nothing. And speaking of which, did you _see_ Miss Whitby's gown? Tis atrocious!"  
"That pink!" said the first. "It makes her cheeks look like the rump of a newborn babe!"  
"And her hair," added the second. "A desperate attempt to copy a wig! Look at those fake curls toppling over!"  
"Tis a shame," sighed the first. "Does no one know how to dress, act, or marry anymore?"  
"I hear that she had an affair behind the Raleigh with Mr. Asher's apprentice last month," said the second. "Let us hope that she does not have a child out of wedlock!"  
"By the way," said the second. "Did you hear about Miss Robinson?" And they continued to gossip about some other poor soul. Felicity felt beyond hurt. How dare they say such things about her? And Elizabeth? And the other unfortunate ladies? She was tired of the gossip. The cattiness. The scorn of men just for being a woman. The sitting still. The rules. The uncomfortable undergarments. The judging. In short, she was tired of being a woman. She looked around, and seeing that no one was paying attention to her, ducked out onto the balcony.

The summer night air felt refreshing. She took the comb and pins out of her hair and shook it free. That felt better. Through her gown, she managed to loosen up her corset. That also felt better. She peeled off her gloves, then sighed and leaned against the French door. She looked out into the endless night. The crickets chirped, and every now and then a firefly would emit its natural lamp, only for a second, then disappear back into the blackness. It was a serene setting, and it made Felicity a bit calmer. No people to bother her out here. She closed her eyes. She thought of the men who laughed at women for having an opinion. She thought of the women who judged one another if one hair was out of place. She thought of all the rules that had to be followed. Don't eat too much, but don't eat too little. Don't talk too much, but don't talk too little. Don't laugh too loudly. Speak softly. Take tiny steps. And then the never ending work. The cooking. The cleaning. The sewing. The caring for children. And a woman still had to put on a smile and never act cross when her husband came home. She had to bow down to his every wish and command. Break any of those rules, and you were shunned. The joys of being a lady. "They make me sick," she said to herself. "Who does?" asked a voice behind her. Startled, she whirled around, and found of all people..."Ben?" she asked with a frown. "What are you doing out here?"  
"I saw you leave," he explained. "You looked a little pale. Is everything all right?"  
"Fine," she lied. "I just needed some fresh air." He looked skeptical. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You seem a bit tense."  
"I'm fine!" she snapped. "Tis none of your business, anyway!" He was quiet, then said, "You're right, tis none of my business."  
"Exactly," she said. "I'm glad you realize that."  
"But," he continued. She winced. Did there always have to be a "but"?  
"But," he repeated. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, you will go home and be angry for the rest of the evening, and then you'll keep it bottled up inside of you for weeks, then William or Polly will do something that annoys you slightly, and then you will lash out at them to the point where they are in tears because you have all these bottled up emotions that are finally flooding out. Then you'll become a mad woman who locks herself in her room for eternity. Then I will feel guilty and eventually confess that I knew something was wrong from the beginning but didn't try to worm it out of you. Then your parents will be angry that I knew something and didn't say anything, and they will throw me out of the house. Then I will be some poor helpless beggar on the streets, trying desperately just to get some bread to eat. All because of you." He looked at her. "I really don't want that to happen," he sighed. "But if you're not going to tell me, then I guess that's the way it must be."  
"Oh, be serious!" she said. "And how does my anger turn into being all about you?" "So something is wrong!" he said.  
"What?" she asked hastily. "No it's not!" "You just said you were angry."  
"No, I meant- I just-" she sighed. "Very well. Do you really want to know what's wrong?"  
"If it means I can avoid living in the streets," he answered. "Then yes, by all means." She took a deep breath. "Fine," she said. "This is the matter..."

In about five minutes, she poured out everything. The ladies at tea. The ladies inside who were criticizing her as well as other innocent women. The men who looked down at women like they were a mistake. The rules. The uncomfortable clothes. The cattiness. The judging. The endless chores just to make a man happy. Ben listened patiently through it all. "I hate being a lady!" she finally said. "Why can't I be a boy? Like you?"  
"I don't think you would want to be a boy," said Ben. "Especially one like me." "Boys don't have as many rules to follow," she said. "They're free to do what they want without being judged for it." He smiled a little bit. "Oh, Felicity," he said. "You know nothing about men. In the world of men, money is everything. If you don't have money, you're nothing. Tis as simple as that." "At least you're not judged if one hair is out of place," she said. "Or if your conversation is right or not. You're free to speak your mind without being called out for it." She then sighed. "Ladies never get to do anything fun. We must sit perfectly and stitch until our fingers are red, keep our voices low, and try to outdress one another. Why can't we be able to swim and take up as much space as we want and swear and fence and spit? Why can't we do the things a man can do?"  
"Gentlemen can't," he pointed out.  
"Then why can't I be like you?" she asked. "You're free to do whatever you want without a care in the world."  
"I wouldn't go that far," he said. "I'm not exactly free as a bird, you know."  
"You have more freedom than I do," she said. "Just because you were lucky enough to be born a boy." She sighed again. "If I had a penny for every time I wanted to spit in the eye of a person who wronged me, I'd be a rich woman." Ben was quiet, then grabbed her wrist. "Come on," he said, taking her closer to the balcony. She frowned. "What are you doing?" she asked.  
"I wouldn't recommend doing this in someone's face," he said. "But you, Miss Merriman, are going to learn to spit good and proper." Felicity's eyes widened. "Ben, no!" she gasped. "I didn't mean it!" He paid her no attention. "Ben, no!" she hissed. "Please! Are you out of your mind?"  
"Come on!" he said. "If you hate being a lady so much." He let go of her wrist. "Now watch." He leaned back and made a snorting sound from way back in his throat, then spit far out into the night. Felicity wrinkled her nose. "That," she said. "Is disgusting, Ben Davidson!" He grinned, which was something she had not seen in ages. "I know," he said. "Now you try."  
"Really?" she groaned. He nodded. She glanced at him, then shyly spit a little over the edge. He frowned. "That was pathetic," he said. "Now look. It comes from your throat. Breathe in, nice and deep." He demonstrated, and she tried to copy him. "Then try to gather up all of your saliva towards the back of your throat," he said. She nodded, and made the same snorting sound as he did. "Once you've got all of it back there," he said. "Then let it go. Like this." And he spit again. She nodded and copied, this time spitting a bit farther. "Not bad," he said. "I think you can go farther, though. Just don't think and let it out. You really need to breathe in and-" Felicity saw Elizabeth come out and frown a little. "Ben," she murmured, tapping his arm. "And gather it all back there," he went on, demonstrating again. "Then just-" "Ben!" she hissed, grabbing his arm. He turned and saw Elizabeth, then his eyes widened a little and he quickly swallowed. "What's going on out here?" Elizabeth asked.  
"Nothing," Felicity said quickly. "I-um-just needed some fresh air, and-uh"  
"I came out to keep her company," said Ben. Felicity glanced at him, then touched her chin. He got the message and quickly wiped the spit off of his. "I see," said Elizabeth skeptically. "Well, people are starting to leave, just so you know."  
"Then I suppose we should too," said Felicity. "I'll be there in a moment, Elizabeth." She nodded and left. Felicity turned back to Ben. "You know," he said. "I'm sure the Templetons have some sort of swords lying around, if you wanted to learn to fence." Felicity laughed. "That's all right," she said. "Besides, tis getting late. My parents will start to worry if we're not home soon." He nodded and offered his hand. "Shall we, Miss Merriman?" he asked. She grinned and accepted it. "We shall, Mr. Davidson." And, her hand on his elbow, the two departed back into the stuffy ballroom.


	14. Chapter 14

**Whew! Sorry that took so long! With the 4th of July and all the other summer plans, I've really only had time to write at night. Anyway, PLEASE review; I love to hear your thoughts!**

Chapter 13

A month went by. It was now mid July, and Mrs. Merriman and the children went to Grandfather's plantation for a few weeks. Even though he had been dead for a good six years, they still went as a sort of vacation from everyday life. Besides, Mrs. Merriman liked to see her old friends that she had grown up with. Mr. Merriman and Ben would join them for a week later into their stay, and until they did, Felicity and her siblings entertained themselves by riding horses, playing/sitting by the river, walks into the woods, and playing battledore and shuttlecock on the lawn. Occasionally, one of Mother's old friends would come for dinner, and Felicity, Nan, and William had to sit in the dining room with the adults and listen to their conversation. Felicity answered when she was spoken to and occasionally brought up a story that related to the conversation, but kept her opinions to herself. Mother's friends seemed impressed by her manners, and even more impressed on how she had grown. The nice thing, Felicity thought, was that these people had known her since birth and had always thought that she and her siblings were perfectly lovely children. No catty, gossiping women like back in Williamsburg.

The days rolled by leisurely. Everybody did what they wanted with no responsibility. One day, Felicity and William went down to the cemetery by themselves to put more flowers on Grandfather's grave. After doing so, they sat next to it in silence for a while. Finally, Felicity said, "It still isn't the same without him." William just nodded. "You don't really remember him, do you?" she asked. He shrugged. "I remember him a little," he said. "But not really enough to miss him like you and Nan do."

"You were only four," she said. Then she sighed. "He loved this place. He loved the land, the horses, the people, and most of all, us."

"Do you still miss him?" he asked. She nodded. "In a fond way, though," she said. "No more grieving. After all, it's been six years. Now we can just remember the happy times we had with him and smile." She then smiled. "I remember the summer Ben tried to run away and was hiding in the woods just over there." She nodded towards the nearby woods. "That was enough to turn Grandfather against him for life! The two never really did get along, though they only met a couple of times."

"I don't remember that," said William. "Ben actually tried to run away? Why?"

"He had his heart set on joining the army," Felicity explained. "Even when he was just fifteen. When he came back, Father agreed to let him go once he turned eighteen."

"So that's how that came about," he said. "All I remember is him always looking forward to his eighteenth birthday, and then eventually the day he left."

"Speaking of which," she said. "What do you think of him?" William looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think of him?" she repeated. "Has he seemed different to you since he came home?"

"I don't really remember him much before then," he answered. "I like him just fine. It's nice to not be the only boy in the family." He smiled. "I do remember that he used to sometimes play with my toy soldiers with me when I was little. And he used to make Polly laugh by tickling her feet when she was a baby. Why do you ask? Do you not like him?" Felicity shook her head. "It's not that I don't like him," she said. "It's just that ever since he came home, I feel like he's been very stand-offish. He can be very short and snippy, and then out of the blue, he teaches me how to spit. He's very hard to read." William frowned. "He taught you how to what?" he asked. Felicity shook her head. "Never mind," she said. "I guess I just miss the boy I used to know. I miss being able to talk to him about anything and everything. Now when I try, he just gives me a short answer and goes back to whatever he's doing." William grinned. "Perhaps he likes you," he said. "And he's just being shy around you because of that." Felicity raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I highly doubt it," she said. Then she shook her head again. "I don't know. He's just very hot-and-cold." William was quiet, then said, "Well, I haven't noticed anything. I think he's a good man."

"He's a good man deep down," she agreed. "He's got a hard exterior, though, and I can't break through it. It annoys me. But I suppose that there are more important things to worry about." William grinned and stood up. "Such as the fact that I'm going to beat you back to the house?" Felicity grinned back and also stood up. "I don't think so!" she laughed, taking off after him. "William! Get back here!"

"You can go faster than that!" William yelled over his shoulder. "Come on! You're making this far too easy!" She sighed and hitched up her skirts, then ran to catch up with her brother, letting her thoughts of Ben fly into the wind behind her.

When they got back, Mr. Merriman and Ben had arrived. Naturally, all of the children were excited to see their father, and Polly became Ben's shadow. Over the past six months, she had grown quite fond of him and followed him everywhere. For some reason, though, she still called him "Mr. Davidson". After greeting her father with a big hug, she tugged on Ben's hand, wanting to show him the river. "Polly!" said Mrs. Merriman. "Your father and Ben just got here; let them get settled."

"Later, Polly," Ben promised, and she grinned up at him. Felicity and Nan hugged their father hello, and he kissed the top of their heads. "And how are my lovely girls?" he asked.

"We're fine," answered Nan for both of them.

"We're glad you're here," Felicity added. "Wait until you see the horses! Especially last year's foals! They have gotten ever so big!"

"And the Wentworths have stopped by every now and then," said Nan. "They asked about you."

"And Felicity and I put some fresh flowers on Grandfather's grave," said William. "She and Polly picked them earlier."

"And I lost my first tooth!" added Polly, opening her mouth so that he could see. He smiled. "I see," he said. "That's quite an accomplishment, Polly!" She beamed with pride. Felicity smiled. "I once lost a tooth in a cup of tea," she recalled. "It was my first day at Miss Manderly's. My goodness, I remember how mortified I was! I wonder if Elizabeth still remembers that."

"I lost a tooth in my stew once," said William. "I never did find it."

"Well, congratulations, Polly," said Mr. Merriman. "My goodness, you are growing up fast, aren't you?" She beamed again. Then Mrs. Merriman kissed her husband hello. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "Felicity and Nan have been a big help with the younger ones, but tis nice that you and Ben are here too."

"The house is too quiet without all of you," he said. "A couple of men don't exactly give it much life."

"Especially considering who one of those men are," thought Felicity, her eyes flicking to Ben. "Well, you must be tired," said Mrs. Merriman. "Here, I'll help you take your things upstairs." She and Father left, and William and Polly escaped outside to see what kind of insects they could catch. That just left Felicity, Nan, and Ben. He just stood there looking around, and the sisters eyed each other. They could both tell what the other was thinking: "Is he going to say anything?" To break the silence, Felicity said, "You haven't been here in a while." Ben looked at her. "No," he said. "Not since the summer before I left."

"Five long years ago," she remarked. He just nodded. The two sisters glanced at each other again. "Well," said Nan. "I'll bet you're tired. They prepared a room for you, if you'd like to go up." He nodded. "All right," he agreed.

"I'll show you up," Felicity offered. "Come on."

Soon they reached the room upstairs. "Here it is," she said. "Tis bigger than a stable loft, that's for sure." He nodded again. "Thank you," he said. She awkwardly stood in the doorway. "Do you need anything?" she asked. He turned to her and frowned a little. "No," he answered slowly. "Why would I?" She felt her face flush. "I- I don't know," she stammered. "I was just trying to be helpful."

"Well, I'm fine," he said. "Thank you." He turned back away, and she got the message that he wanted her to leave. Rolling her eyes at his back, she just said, "I suppose I'll see you at supper," and went back downstairs.

Ben was stand-offish the whole time. His coldness was starting to really get to Felicity. She didn't understand. How could he come home and be so embracing and friendly, then the next week not say more than two words to her? How could he snap at her for the littlest thing one day, then teach her how to spit the next? She complained about this to Nan one evening as they played battledore and shuttlecock. "I just don't understand him," she said as she served, the shuttlecock swinging into a graceful arc over their heads until it kissed Nan's racquet. Then it repeated the movement as Nan returned Felicity's serve. "He was never like this before."

"He's so gentle with the younger ones," agreed Nan as it came back towards her. She missed, then picked it up and served it again. "But with us-especially you-he's so..."

"Cold," said Felicity. "Something is wrong; I just can't figure out what. All I know is that he is driving me crazy."

"Lots of people say that war changes a person," said Nan. "Perhaps that's it."

"Elizabeth thinks he's like a spring crocus that needs to realize it's spring and bloom again," said Felicity, swinging at the shuttlecock and missing. "I don't know, though. He's so up and down, like spring weather. Sunny one day and rainy the next."

"Well," said Nan. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. Tis just Ben, after all. He will be gone in a year and a half, and then we won't have to worry about him anymore."

"Won't have to worry about who anymore?" asked a voice. The girls turned, and there stood Ben himself, Polly in tow. "Um-uh-" Felicity stammered. Luckily, Nan was a quick thinker. "William," she answered. "When he gets older. Then we won't have to worry about him getting himself into trouble." Ben looked skeptical, but he didn't say anything. "What have you two been up to?" asked Felicity. Polly grinned. "I wanted to show Mr. Davidson the river," she said. "Tis the finest river in the world, isn't it, Mr. Davidson?" "Mr. Davidson" smiled a little and looked down at her. "Aye, Polly," he agreed. "That it is." He then looked at the older Merriman girls. "And what are you two up to?" Nan held up her racquet. "Battledore and shuttlecock," she replied. Then she glanced at the setting sun. "I should probably go in, though. I'm getting tired. Would you like to take my place?" He hesitated a minute, glanced at Felicity, then accepted her racquet. "I have to warn you," he said to Felicity. "I haven't played in ages."

"That's all right," she said. "I don't mind." Nan took Polly by the hand. "Come on, Polly, tis time for bed."

"But I want to watch!" Polly protested. "Perhaps tomorrow," said Nan. "Now come along." She led her little sister inside, leaving Ben and Felicity to their game. Felicity served the shuttlecock gently, and Ben hit it back effortlessly. She reached up to hit it back and missed. She smiled a little. "That was good," she complimented. He just shrugged. "Lucky, I guess," he said. She served it again, and soon they had a good volley going. After a while, she remarked, "Polly has certainly grown attached to you." He smashed the shuttlecock back to her, which she missed again. "She's like your little shadow."

"I can't figure out why," he said.

"Because you're a novelty to her," she said, serving it again. "She never knew you before you left." He hit it back. "Maybe," he said as she lunged for it and actually hit it back. For once, he missed. "She doesn't bother you, does she?" asked Felicity, preparing for his serve. The shuttlecock swung into a graceful arc towards her. "No," answered Ben. "She reminds me a little of you, when you younger. She looks like you used to."

"You didn't know me when I was six," she pointed out. He shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said. "There are still the similarities." She was quiet, then remarked, "She's the one you've been the most friendly towards since you've come home." He looked at her and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're very gentle with Polly," she said. "And friendly with William. But to Nan and me, you don't really say much anymore."

"Nan and I were never exactly best friends," he said.

"But you and me," she said. "I just feel bad, sometimes. You never talk to me anymore, or at least not really. Not like you used to."

"What's there to say?" he asked. She rolled her eyes. "Never mind," she said, serving again. "I just-I don't know if-well, I guess what I'm trying to say is, is something wrong? You've been acting strangely ever since you came back." He frowned. "How so?"

"You seem so distant," she said. "Cold. Bitter."

"Nothing is wrong," he said. "And I'm not being cold or bitter."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "You just don't seem like your old self." He shook his head. "Don't worry about me, Felicity," he said. "I'm fine. Does there have to be something wrong if one doesn't feel like talking?" She looked down. "No," she admitted. "I suppose not." Then she looked back up at him and grinned. "Come on. I'll bet I can beat you by the time the sun goes down." He glanced at the setting sun, then grinned back a little. "I'll take that bet," he said. Felicity served it, and soon the two were hitting it back and forth, faster and faster. Ben won every time.

A couple of months went by. It was now October, nearing Ben's twenty-third birthday and Elizabeth and Caleb's first wedding anniversary. It was a pleasant autumn evening at supper when Mr. Merriman said, "Well, we have some news for you." Felicity looked up. This could be interesting. Mrs. Merriman looked at her children. "Do you remember your great aunt Ellen?" she asked. "Who came to visit about three years ago?" They nodded. "She passed away last Friday," she said sadly. This drew a chorus of "ohhh"'s. "I'm sorry to hear that," said Nan.

"I'm sorry too, Mother," said Felicity. Mother smiled sadly. "Thank you, my dears," she said.

"Anyway," continued Father. "We will have to leave in two days for the funeral."

"How long will you be gone?" Polly inquired.

"Only a week," he replied. "And while we're gone, Ben, Felicity-" Said people looked up. "You two are in charge."

"What?" William protested.

"You heard him," said Felicity smugly. "Can you do that, Ben?" asked Mr. Merriman. "Be the man of the house for a week?"

"Aye, sir," he agreed.

"Felicity?" asked Mrs. Merriman.

"Absolutely," her daughter answered, though inside she was thinking, "Wonderful. I get Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud for a week."

"And the rest of you," Father continued. "You'll need to help them to make sure things run smoothly."

"Can I work with Ben at the store?" asked William excitedly. His father nodded. "Me too?" asked Polly.

"Unless Lissie and Nan need you," said Mother. Felicity saw Nan whisper something to Polly, who giggled. Their parents smiled. "What's so amusing?" asked Father.

"Nothing," they both lied.

"It must be _something_," said Mother. "Polly is turning purple with laughter." Polly tried to disguise it as a cough, but it instead came out a fit of giggles. Her eyes flicked to Ben, then Felicity, which led to an even worse fit. Nan smiled calmly. "All I said was that being man and wi-um, _woman_ of the house may give Ben and Felicity more time together. They really haven't had much of late." Polly still tried to retain her laughs. Felicity glanced at Ben. He looked uncomfortable, which was exactly how she felt. "Maybe they will," said Mrs. Merriman, looking at them kindly. Felicity wanted to sink under the table for the rest of the evening.

"But Mother," she complained later that night as the two were clearing the table. "I don't want to be left running the house with just Ben!" Mrs. Merriman looked up. "Why not?" she asked.

"Because," said Felicity. "He's not-and I don't-I won't be-he's so-ugh!" Though she couldn't string together a sentence, her mother knew exactly what she was trying to say. "Well, you'll still have the children,"'she said. "Truthfully, you'll all be running the house. You and Ben will only be in charge because you're the oldest."

"But it will be awkward!" Felicity protested. Mother smiled a little. "Tis just Ben, dear," she said. "You've known him since you were nine years old. You two have always gotten along well."

"Not anymore," said Felicity. "Ever since he's come back, he's been so quiet and cold, especially towards me, though Nan sees it too. I don't like it." Mother sighed. "The past five years have been rough on him," she said. "He's seen war-torn towns, blood and gore, loss of limb, though thankfully not his own, and death all around him. That's enough to turn even _you_ cold, Lissie."

"But it's been a year since all of that," pointed out Felicity. "And he's still bitter."

"He's not bitter," said Mrs. Merriman. "And he's not necessarily cold, either. But war changes people. I just think he isn't very happy, is all."

"Then what _will_ make him happy?"

Mother smiled sadly. "I can't say, dear," she said. "Maybe just an act of kindness or love and compassion. Truthfully, I can see why he's acting this way. Most of his friends are gone; they've either gotten married and moved away or have been killed, and when one almost dies himself..." Felicity looked up. "What do you mean?" Her mother sighed. "That fever that he had," she explained. "It nearly killed him. First when he was shot, then at home from that deadly fever. His family didn't think he was going to live. Twas by the pure grace of God that he survived, and even more so, is not crippled. At least not physically."

"Was it all because of when he was shot?" asked Felicity. Mrs. Merriman nodded. "After that," she said. "He was so weak that all the exposure to the elements and fatigue finally caught up with him, making him extremely vulnerable to disease. And that, on top of his arm, caused a deadly fever." Felicity was silent. She had known that Ben had been ill, but she didn't know it had been that bad. "Well," she finally said. "If I were him, I'd just cry about it and stuff myself with ginger cake." Mother smiled. "He's not you, Lissie," she said. "I think he'll warm up, though, just wait and see."

"Now you sound like Elizabeth,"said Felicity with a grin.

Two days later, Mother and Father left. "Be good," they told the children. "We'll be fine," Felicity assured them, though she felt more like she was assuring herself. "Don't worry about us." Mother smiled. "I'm not worried," she said. "I know you'll exceed my expectations. Besides, you'll have Rose to help out too."

"I know," said Felicity. Her mother kissed her forehead, then proceeded to do the same to her other three children. "We'll be back soon," promised Father, helping her into the carriage. They waved, and then they were off. After the carriage was out of sight, they all stopped waving. "Well," said Felicity. "Now that that is done, we should do the breakfast dishes."

"And we should be getting to the store," said Ben. Felicity and Nan started heading towards the house, and Ben and William started towards the store. Polly stayed in the middle. "Wait!" she cried. Both parties turned. "This is the part where Mother wishes Father a good day and he kisses her."

"Well, Mother and Father just left," said Felicity. "So I don't think that is likely to happen."

"But you two are taking their place, aren't you?" asked Polly. Felicity looked at Ben nervously. "That doesn't mean we have to, Polly," she said.

"Still," said the stubborn six-year-old. "That is the way it always happens. Mr. Davidson is supposed to kiss you." Felicity actually felt her stomach flip as her middle siblings started giggling. Ben closed his eyes. "No, Polly," he said through gritted teeth. "That is _not_ going to happen."

"It's what Mother and Father do everyday," said Polly firmly.

"Well, I'm not your father," said Ben. "And Felicity is not your mother." She gave him a look that said, "Just do it!" He rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. He kissed his hand and pressed it rather firmly to Felicity's cheek. It wasn't a slap by any means, but it wasn't exactly a loving, lingering gesture. "There. Now good day."

"And to you," said Felicity coolly. Then the boys and the girls went their separate ways for the day.

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly. Ben and William went to work, and Felicity and Nan (with some help from Polly) did the household chores. The next day, tension arose. It was evening. William and Polly were in Polly's room playing checkers, and Nan was upstairs doing God knew what. Probably primping for no reason. Ben and Felicity sat in the parlor awkwardly, neither really saying anything. Finally, Felicity broke the silence by saying, "It's a nice evening."

"Aye," he agreed.

"I'll bet Caleb and Elizabeth are out walking," she continued. "They like romantic things like that. My goodness, in a few days it will be their first wedding anniversary! And a year since the war ended, though the British haven't officially surrendered yet. I'm surprised that after a year already, nobody has drawn up a treaty of some sort."

"It makes everyone a bit nervous," he agreed. "I hope nothing breaks out anymore. I don't want to fight again."

"I don't want to have to see fighting again," she said. "Honestly, those days when there were battles here were the scariest I had ever seen. All that death..."

"That's the life of a soldier," he said. "At least you didn't have to be under constant fire."

"We were, in a way," she said. "Not on the front lines, but we couldn't go out of doors without the fear of being killed."

"I'll bet you I had it worse," he said. "At least you had a house. If we were lucky, we had tents. If not, the cold, hard ground. We didn't always have food, either."

"Neither did we," she said, growing slightly agitated. "There were many days where all we had a day was some bread and water for supper. And as for a house? We lived in the cellar for days."

"Tis still shelter," he said. "Many of us froze in the winter, and the heat was enough to make someone pass out in the summer. And at least you had decent clothes. Most of us didn't even have shoes, and our clothes were torn and dirty. Rags, really. They provided absolutely no warmth; they were just there to provide a thin cover for our bodies."

"You know," she said, her tone growing sharp. "We didn't have new clothes either. We were stuck in the same three dresses for about a year. No new gowns or anything. By the end of the war, I had to squeeze into a single gown I had had since I was thirteen. And Polly, the poor growing little girl? Dressed in one of Father's old shirts."

"They were still better than ours," he said. "Not having a new gown isn't the end of the world, you know." Now she was angry. "I was spilling out of that thing!" she exclaimed. "I know that you were a soldier and actually risked your life on the front lines, but we civilians didn't exactly sit around and have parties and cheer you on. We sacrificed our food, fabric, medicine, our loved ones, everything for the army! And what did we get in return? A destroyed city and having to risk our lives to get a loaf of bread. Believe me, we payed our fair share."

"Sitting back and watching a war before your very eyes isn't exactly paying your fair share," he said. "We soldiers were the ones who gave you your freedom."

"And who financed all of that?" she demanded. "Civilians played just as big a part in this war as soldiers did, perhaps even more! You just like to sit back now and brag about the fact that you fought for our independence, just so you can seem more important than you actually are! In the grand scheme of things, Benjamin Davidson, you didn't play a very big role at all! You were no General Washington, you were just a foot soldier from Virginia! You're not as high and mighty as you'd like to think!" Ben stared at her for a second, then said calmly, "Felicity, look at this." He unbuttoned his vest and took his shirt off. Felicity tried not to stare, but it was a bit of an intimate thing, him letting her see that much of him. "Look at that," he said softly, pointing to a deep, ugly scar below his right shoulder. She did a little gasp. "Oh my goodness," she murmured. He nodded. "That's were the bullet hit," he said. "And that scar will be there forever." She gingerly touched it. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"From time to time," he replied. His eyes narrowed. "Do you think I brag about that?" he asked. "Do you think I feel high and mighty about that? About anything? I know I'm not a great war hero, and in spite of what you think, I don't try to be. But at least you didn't have to put up with this." He pointed to it. She didn't say anything; she was too stunned. "All right, none of us were shot," she finally admitted. "But we had our own troubles, too. You're not the only one who had to go through pain and suffering." Ben put his shirt back on. "I almost died, Lissie," he said quietly. She bit her lip before replying coldly, "Well, maybe it would have been better if you had." Immediately after the words left her lips, she regretted uttering them. His face could not have looked more hurt if she had slapped him. She thought of what she had just said. Did she really just say that it would have been better if he died?! Why, oh why had she said that? She opened her mouth to speak, then, not being able to bear the hurt on his face, ran upstairs before either one of them could say another word.

"You said _what_?!" exclaimed Nan a little while later. The girls were getting ready for bed, and Felicity had just told Nan what she had just said to Ben. Felicity nodded glumly. "Felicity, you idiot!" said Nan. "You don't just tell someone it would have been better if he died!"

"I know!" Felicity moaned. "And I didn't mean it, honestly I didn't! I wasn't thinking again!"

"Obviously," snapped Nan. "Felicity, do you know what the poor man has been through?"

"Well, we had our own problems too!" said Felicity. "But does he care? No, he always has to have it so much worse than we do!"

"He's been through hell and back," said Nan, then added quickly. "And those are his words, mind you, not mine."

"And we haven't?" said Felicity. "Need I remind you of last year? When Father was gone for hours and we were afraid he was dead?"

"I remember perfectly," said Nan. "And while that was terrifying, at least none of us were shot and nearly died! Are you even proud of him? Even a little?"

"Of course I am!" said Felicity. "I just wish he would appreciate us as the civilians a little!"

"Well, if you are proud of him," said Nan, blowing out the candle. "Try showing it."

Felicity couldn't sleep that night. She felt too awful. She couldn't get the image of that terrible scar or his hurt face out of her mind. Ben was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he did have an expressive face (though he always denied the emotion). She thought about if that scar was much worse, if there was no scar because there was no arm. The thought of him as a cripple with only one arm was enough to almost make her cry. And when she said that it may have been better if he died...she cringed. The thought of him in a coffin, his lifeless face that would never again smile and laugh, that young life that hadn't seen much of the world severed by the sharp knife of death...this really did cause a few tears to fall from her face. How could she wish something like that on him? And after all that time worrying about him? "Stop crying," she told herself. "He's alive, he's able-bodied, and he's safe at home. He's fine." She knew that she had to apologize, though. She had to tell him, no matter how awkward it might be, that she never meant it; she never for a moment wished it. She would genuinely apologize. The next chance she had alone with him she would. And soon.

A couple of days later, she got her chance. She, Nan, and Rose were all making supper. Polly was at the store with William and Ben. Soon they came home. "I'm starving!" William announced.

"Well, you'll have to wait a little bit," said Felicity. "Supper won't be ready for another half an hour." William sighed. "You can have a tea party with me," offered Polly.

"Any other options?" he asked.

"You can help me set the table," said Nan. William sighed again. "Tea party it is." Polly dragged him off to his boredom, Nan went to set the table, and Rose went to get more water. That left the awkward duo of Felicity and Ben. He laid the sack he had been carrying on the table and sat down on the hearth. With a heavy sigh, he ran his hand through his hair. Felicity looked over at him. "Rough day?" He shook his head. "Just busy," he replied. He stood up and winced. "My feet are killing me."

"I know what you mean," she agreed, starting to chop the onions. "Will you do me a favor and put the salt in?" He nodded and dumped the spoonful in the bubbling stew. "Maybe I'll let William man the counter tomorrow," he said, turning towards the door. He had already opened it when she called, "Ben?" He turned back to her. "I-I'm sorry about what I said the other night," she apologized. He smiled a tight, half smile. "It's fine," he said, though a bit stiffly. "It's not," she argued, standing in front of him. "I know that we almost lost you forever, and to say that I wished you _had_ died-oh Ben, I'm awful! I didn't mean it, truly I didn't!"

"Then why did you say it?" he asked.

"Because I was angry," she said. "You were just making it sound like we didn't have anything to do with the war here at home and our lives went on uninterrupted while you were risking your life for us and had it so much worse than us. And while I know that's true, we were in danger too. Even though we weren't fighting, the world was a dark, cold place. And when you made it sound like I shouldn't be complaining, I just lost my temper...again." He didn't say anything for a second. Then he said, "Well, I'm sorry." _He_ was apologizing to _her_? That was unexpected. "I know that life was rough back here at home," he went on. "I just felt that you were going on and on about how terrible your lives were, when I bet that active combat was ten times worse. But I'm sorry for saying that you sat back and did nothing. I know that's not true; I was just getting irritated."

"Oh, so now I irritate you?" she asked coolly. He frowned. "I never said that," he said. "I said what you were saying was irritating, as if you were competing with me to see who had it worse."

"You might as well have!" she exclaimed. "And competing with you? I was just trying to make my point!"

"Well, believe me, you've made your point loud and clear!" he said, his voice rising. "You always have, and you always have to have the last word! That, Felicity, is what really annoys me. You always turn the littlest thing into an argument!"

"So I do annoy you!" she said accusingly. "And it's you, Benjamin, who instigates these arguments! You're the one who always has to be right! And have you any idea how you've annoyed me these past nine months? You're cold, you don't talk to me, when you do, it usually turns into an argument, you're arrogant, you treat me like a child,you-" Suddenly, the door swung open, pushing Ben into Felicity, and she grabbed him as he stumbled into her. At the same time, the door pushed him right into her to where his lips pressed against hers. She felt her eyes widen, and her heart start to pound as the realization dawned on her as to what was happening. Ben's brown eyes widened in surprise, then crossed, then closed. She heard Nan giggle, "William!" and William say, "I had to do _something_ to keep myself entertained!" Felicity closed her eyes, and somehow, what started as an accident turned into a kiss, a real kiss. Before she could really marvel over this, Ben pulled away abruptly. His face was pink, and Felicity felt her mouth hang half open. His hands still gripped her elbows, and hers gripped his. "I- I-" he stammered. She only stared in awe at him. He let go of her. "I...will see you later," he said calmly, a gentle smile gracing his face. And he left. Felicity could only stand there and smile a little, thinking about what had just happened. Their lips actually touched. They had really kissed. That was even more unexpected than him apologizing. Rose came back in, and when she saw Felicity standing like a ninny, she asked, "Miss Felicity? Are you all right? You look as if the boy you loved just asked you to marry him." Felicity still just looked at the door. "Tis not far from the truth," she said softly. Rose gave her a funny look, but she turned back to her with a completely normal countenance. "Well," she said cheerfully. "Supper is not going to make itself, now is it? Let's finish up this stew."

She could barely suppress her smile for the rest of the evening. Well, what girl doesn't like to be kissed, especially by a handsome boy, no matter how cold and irritating he was acting? Though it had been on accident (William had purposely pushed the door so it would push Ben into Felicity), it still made her happy. Too soon, however, she had to pull herself back down to earth. Supper was served, and everyone sat down to table. After grace was said, Ben was the first to take a spoonful of the stew Felicity, Nan, and Rose made. His face was peculiar as he swallowed. Felicity frowned. "Does it taste all right?" she asked. He managed a weak smile. "Aye," he said. "Delicious." Nan, William, and Polly tasted theirs, and their faces were similar to his. Something was definitely wrong. Felicity frowned again and slowly brought a small spoonful to her lips... "Ach!" she exclaimed, taking a big gulp of water. "It's awful!"

"What did you do to it?" asked William. Felicity tried to think, and then it dawned on her. "Ben," she choked. "When I asked you to put that spoonful of salt in...where was it?"

"By the oven," he gagged, gulping water. "Why?" Felicity smacked her forehead. "Ben!" she groaned. "That was the sugar I laid out for the apple pie!" He nearly choked. "Sugar?" he repeated. "Why didn't you say so?"

"Because I-" she started, then realized that she didn't have a good answer and started to giggle. "Because I forgot that it was sugar, and that the salt was right next to me the whole time." Polly started to giggle, then William. Soon they were all laughing, even Ben, which was something Felicity hasn't seen in ages. "Please," he finally said. "It's not that funny, is it?"

"Yes," giggled Nan. "It is." Felicity stood up. "Well," she said, trying not to laugh. "Since Ben has unfortunately botched our supper-" William snickered. "I suppose that only gives us one choice." She went into the kitchen and came back holding the apple pie that Ben's "salt" was originally supposed to go into. "Dessert for supper?" gasped William with delight. Felicity cut everyone a slice. "Mother and Father aren't here," she reasoned. "So why not?"

"Don't get your hopes up," Nan warned. "Felicity probably asked Ben to put in salt instead of sugar." And everyone laughed again. "Supper" commenced. "Mmm," said Nan happily.

"Perfect," sighed William. Polly grinned. "Let's let Mr. Davidson and Felicity cook every night!" she suggested.

A few evenings later, the evening of Ben's twenty-third birthday, the children went to bed, and Felicity sat on the sofa reading her father's collection of Shakespeare. Ever since she was thirteen, she had grown rather fond of Shakespeare (though he was hard to get through because he was ninety percent metaphor), and had so far read a number of sonnets, _Hamlet_, and _Romeo and Juliet_. The latter was the first one she read, and by far her favorite. Currently, she was reading _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. While it held her attention, so far it didn't look as if _Romeo and Juliet_ was going to give up its title as her favorite any time soon. Anyway, just as she got to the part where Puck had given Bottom a donkey's head when Romeo himself walked in, more commonly referred to as Ben Davidson. Felicity looked up and smiled. "Hello," she said. He smiled a little. "Hello," he replied. He sat next to her. "What are you doing?" She held up the book. "Shakespeare," she answered. "_A Midsummer Night's Dream_." He nodded. "I remember that one being a bit odd for my liking," he recalled. "But I always liked _Macbeth_; it was always good for a scare."

"You read Shakespeare?" she asked. He nodded again. "My mother used to read him to us when we were little," he explained. "He's hard to get through until you've read it a couple of times." She nodded. "_Romeo and Juliet _was beyond me the first time I read it," she said. "But now, it's my absolute favorite story in the world. What's more romantic than not being able to live without the one you love? Tis the saddest thing in the world! Romeo was the sweetest man in the world to care for Juliet so much that he couldn't live without her!" Ben looked thoughtful. "Well, think about it," he said. "Romeo was what, sixteen or thereabouts? And being a sixteen year old boy, I don't think his emotions ran very deep. Believe me; I speak from experience."

"Well, they must have for Juliet," she said. "After all, he was madly in love with her."

"Remember the beginning of the play?" he asked. "When he was moping because Rosaline rejected him and he thought he would never love another woman, then that very night he fell in love with Juliet? Do you think his love was really that deep if he could move on so quickly?" Felicity was quiet, then said, "Perhaps? After all, he married Juliet the next day. He was never so quick about Rosaline." Ben shook his head. "Felicity," he said. "There are two kinds of love. There is the kind that is solely based on-" He paused, looking slightly uncomfortable, then sighed and said bluntly, "Well, intercourse. And believe me, that is all a teenage boy thinks about. But that's not really love. There is real love, which is not just based on the physical attraction. That kind is unconditional. It's deep. It's soulful. And to be honest, it's scary. A teenager doesn't usually feel that, at least not a boy. It comes from his heart, not his-" He paused again, then said, "Well, you know what I'm talking about. And from reading the play, I guess that Romeo's love for both women came from...that place." Felicity furrowed her brow. She had to admit, she had never thought about it like that. "Well, if Romeo's love was just sexual desire," she said. "Then what is real love?"

"More than that," answered Ben. "Tis hard to explain. It's what you said you wanted to have someday back in February when you were complaining about overly affectionate couples."

"And?"she asked. "How exactly are you such an expert? Have you...ever been in love?"

"Which?"

"Both."

He ran his hand through his hair. "If you're talking about the first kind I mentioned," he said. "Then yes, of course. Tis natural for any teenage boy. I just didn't act on it."

"And the real kind?" she asked softly. His face looked sad. "I'd rather not say," he said quietly. She said nothing. She wanted to pry it out of him, but just the mention of it seemed to make him upset. Then she glanced at him and thought about what he had just told her. For someone who was quiet and mostly kept his thoughts to himself, Ben certainly had some observant and deep views on the world. Changing the subject, she said, "It's nice to be able to have someone to talk about books with. Whenever I do, Nan tells me to hush."

"It's nice to be able to talk to a woman who does more than sit around and look pretty," he said. "Educated women are hard to come by."

"I've always wanted to go to William and Mary," she said. "But they don't take girls. It's not fair."

"No," he agreed. "It's not." She then grinned. "Well," she said. "Perhaps I could pretend to be a boy. I could make my voice deep and whistle and swear."

"You'd have to do more than that," he said with a small smirk. "You'd have to cut your hair and bind your chest and besides that, you'd probably be curiously flat between the legs." She frowned. "Benjamin!" she exclaimed as he laughed. "I just wanted to see how you would react to that," he said. She just shook her head. Then, changing the subject again, she said, "I really am sorry about what I said the other day, about you dying. Honest to God, I didn't mean it. I don't know what came over me." He smiled. "I know you didn't," he said softly.

"You looked awfully hurt," she remarked. He sighed. "I'll admit," he said. "I was taken aback by you saying that, even though deep down I knew you were just angry. And...with good reason, I suppose."

"Still," she said. "I shouldn't have said something so cruel, no matter how angry I get."

"Well, it's behind us," he said. "I forgive you, so let's just forget about it." She nodded. Then she sighed. "Now what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied. "I'm just exhausted. Running a household is hard work. I think I could fall asleep right here." Ben was quiet, then scooted over. "Here," he said, patting his lap. "Until I go to bed." She looked at him curiously; normally she would think an invitation like that bold, exciting, somewhat intimate, but right now, she was too tired, and his lap looked so inviting, and sleep was calling..she laid down, trying not to think about what the back of her head was against (after all, even though she had never really thought of Ben's body in _that_ sense, he was a man, was he not?) and soon fell fast asleep.

She awoke what seemed like a little while later and blinked. It was still a little dark, but the first rays of sunlight were starting to peep through the curtains. She tried to curl up, but her back was against something soft-and breathing. An arm was draped over her, and the hand was resting on her stomach. She smiled and closed her eyes again. Nan must have had a bad dream and was clinging to her. Felicity took her hand and squeezed it in reassurance. Then she remembered that she was on the sofa. Why was Nan there too? And why was her hand so big and rough? It then dawned on Felicity that the hand she was holding was not her sister's. With a gasp, she sat up and banged her head into Ben's jaw, which, of course, woke him up. "Ow!" they both cried, Felicity rubbing the top of her head and Ben rubbing his chin. "I'm sorry," said Felicity. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said groggily. Then he frowned. "What am I doing out here? And with you?" Felicity shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "Your arm was over me when I woke up, that's all I know." Ben looked confused, then his face looked as guilty as if he had just gotten her pregnant instead of accidentally falling asleep next to her on the sofa. He smacked his forehead. "I must have fallen asleep," he said. "I only meant to doze off for a minute or two. Oh Lissie, I'm sorry, I especially didn't mean to hold you like that!"

"It's all right," she assured him. "My parents aren't here, and no one is up yet."

"Your parents," he moaned. "Oh God, Felicity, your parents! What are they going to think?"

"They will never know," she said. "It was just an accident. We didn't-" She lowered her voice. "_Do_ anything."

"Still," he said. "We're not married, nor even courting! Tis completely and morally wrong, Felicity, and I'm sorry." He got up and left without another word. Felicity sat there a moment. Privately, she hadn't minded. He was right; it was wrong, but his strong arms holding her so tenderly, their hands touching, the sound of his breathing...it was what she secretly wanted every night, even if it gave her a stiff neck, which she had now. She sighed. It wouldn't happen, at least not with him. Just like his kiss, she was sure. She stood up, finger-combed her hair, and went to help him tend to the horses.

A couple of days later, Mr. and Mrs. Merriman came home. Everything was in order, at the house and store, at least. Between Ben and Felicity, there was some tension, but nobody noticed because there had been anyway. What they didn't know that it was now for a different reason. Anyway, Mother and Father were very pleased with everyone, and that was that. Life went back to its usual cycle. Around Christmas, however, another exciting occurrence happened to Felicity. She was at Elizabeth's house one evening. Elizabeth and Caleb had invited her for supper, and Caleb's cousin from France (his mother had moved to the colonies from France when she was thirteen) had been visiting in the colonies for a year and was finally able to come to Williamsburg to see his cousin, so he was there as well. Felicity secretly thought that this was the main reason why she had been invited, but she had no objections. Jean Luc Beaumont was the model gentleman, one that most girls would die for. He was tall and strikingly handsome, with blonde hair pulled back in a simple queue. His blue eyes sparkled, and his posture was very erect. She spoke to him in the little French she knew, but luckily he spoke English. So eventually she just gave up and spoke in her native tongue. He was funny and witty and had a certain charm to him that she had never seen before. Maybe it was French. He was anything but soft-spoken, and somehow the whole evening seemed to revolve around him without him trying to make it do so. He liked to tell stories about France, and he told Felicity all about how his father owned a vineyard just south of Paris. They lived in a grand old mansion out in the country, and he was planning to return in May. "I've always wanted to go to France," she said when he stopped talking. "It sounds like a dream."

"I think you would like it very much," he said in a heavy French accent. Then he looked at her. "You know," he said slowly. "My father has been looking for a governess for my three little siblings. I do not know you very well, Miss Merriman, but I think you would be perfect for the job."

"Oh no," Felicity laughed. "That's very kind of you, Monsieur Beaumont, but all the way to France? I couldn't!"

"No no," he said, growing excited. "Think of it, Mademoiselle. You could come back with me in May, and then I was planning to come back here in November. It would only be six months away from your home, and you would be back for Christmas. I would pay for you to come with me as well."

"Monsieur," said Felicity.

"Jean Luc," he corrected. She smiled a little. "Jean Luc," she tried again. "That is very kind of you, but I can't let you do that."

"I want to," he said. "If you would be willing."

"Think of it, Lissie," said Elizabeth. "You wouldn't be away from home too terribly long, you'd earn some money, and you'd get to see another part of the world! Besides-" she grinned slyly. "Perhaps you'll find a nice French husband while you're there."

"Elizabeth!" exclaimed Felicity, her eyes flicking to Jean Luc. Elizabeth laughed a little. "All right, I'm joking about the last part," she said. "Partly." Felicity thought. The offer was tempting. "But wouldn't it be a bit dangerous?" she asked. "There have been tensions between the English and the French forever, it seems. And the British haven't formally surrendered yet either. Wouldn't it be dangerous for an American girl like me?"

"No more dangerous than it is here," said Elizabeth. "And peace talks are beginning to arise there."

"Besides," added Jean Luc. "They would not hassle a country governess."

"But-but my French!" said Felicity. "It's-"

"Gotten much better," interrupted Elizabeth.

"And my father speaks English," said Jean Luc. "And you will teach the children English as well." Felicity thought. France for half a year. Earning her own wages. French wine. French cheese. French gowns. Potential French men. The adventure of a lifetime. Really, when was she going to have another chance to go to Europe? After all, she only lived once; she might as well make the most of it. And it wasn't for too terribly long. "Well," she finally said with a small smile. "How can I say no?" Elizabeth grinned. "Oh Lissie!" she exclaimed. "Do you hear, Jean Luc, she's going!"

"Wonderful!" said Jean Luc. "Oh, Miss Merriman, I am certain you will love it!"

"Wait," said Felicity. "Before anyone gets overly excited, I still have to ask my parents' permission."

"Go," said Elizabeth. "Go now! Oh Lissie, France!"

"I'll ask," promised Felicity. "But don't get your hopes up. This is my father we are talking about."

She got home an hour later. She could hear her family in the parlor, and that's exactly where she headed. Her mother smiled when she saw her. "Why, Lissie," she said. "You're home early."

"Am I?" Felicity asked. "Tis nine o' clock."

"Still," said Mrs. Merriman. "When it comes to Elizabeth, you two could chat until nine in the morning." Felicity smiled and sat next to her on the sofa. William and Polly had gone to bed already, so it was just her, her parents, Nan, and Ben. "Caleb's cousin from France was visiting," she said as she casually picked up her embroidery. "He has been here a year, but he's been all over the colonies and is just now coming to Williamsburg."

"I didn't know Caleb had family in France," said Nan. Mr. Merriman nodded. "Mrs. McClellan was from France," he explained. "That is why we sometimes have a hard time understanding her when she comes to the store. She has a very strong accent."

"Apparently, Caleb's uncle is looking for a governess for his three younger children," said Felicity nonchalantly. "Jean Luc- that's Caleb's cousin- thinks that I would be perfect for the job." She felt four pairs of eyes boring into her. "Oh Lissie," said Mrs. Merriman. "Not all the way across the ocean!"

"You didn't agree, did you?" asked Nan. Felicity shrugged sheepishly. "I said I would ask for permission," she said.

"But you don't really want to go all the way to France, do you?" asked Ben. Again, Felicity shrugged. "I think it would be interesting," she said. "A new experience. And-" she looked at her parents. "I would leave with Jean Luc in May, and he would come back with me in November. He even offered to pay! I'd earn some money of my own, I would be independent for a while, and…and…" she trailed off. Her father sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "That's an awfully big proposition," he said after a moment. "And Lissie, I don't know if I want you in Europe, the times being what they are."

"I'm not going to England, Father," she said. "And the French helped us during the war, did they not? Besides, peace talks between them and us have been rising, and- and- oh please, Father, may I go? This is probably my only chance to see Europe!"

"Why would you want to?" asked Ben. "I don't see what's wrong with staying right here." Felicity looked at him. "You didn't seem to think that a few years ago," she pointed out. "Besides, I want to travel. Virginia isn't the whole world. There is more to life than cooking, cleaning, and sewing, even for a woman. Her parents looked at each other seriously, then at her. "Let us talk it over," said Mr. Merriman. "And of course with this Jean Luc fellow. I will not send you halfway across the world with a complete stranger."

"Yes Father," she agreed, a slight shimmer of hope arising within her. Ben just shook his head, but she didn't care. She could potentially go to France, to Europe! Not many people, especially not many women, got that opportunity. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and she couldn't refuse it. Unless, of course, if her parents objected. She smiled to herself. A whole other part of the world. And besides that, maybe Elizabeth was right. Maybe there was a potential French husband waiting for her over there. If only her parents agreed.


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 14_

A few months rolled by. 1782 soon ended, and 1783 began, a year that Felicity would come to remember as one of the most dramatic yet happiest years of her life. A week after New Year's was the anniversary of Ben's homecoming. In February, he only had a year left on his contract. In those few months, her parents talked the idea of France over, and correspondence between Caleb, Jean Luc, and Caleb's uncle Alexandre took place. Monsieur Beaumont (the uncle) said that he would be thrilled to have Felicity for a few months and agreed to hire her. Meanwhile, Mr. Merriman met with Jean Luc often to discuss the details and secretly to find out if he was worthy enough to be trusted with Felicity, which, he decided, he most definitely was. Everything was settled on Felicity's eighteenth birthday. "Well," she said at dinner. "According to Jean Luc, Monsieur Beaumont has agreed to hire me."  
"So he has," said Mr. Merriman. Felicity looked at him. "A-a-and," she went on. "As of today, I am eighteen years old, which I consider to be quite grown-up."

"So you are," said Mrs. Merriman with a smile. "My goodness, eighteen whole years ago! It seems like just yesterday that I held you in my arms for the first time. Doesn't it, Edward?"  
"It does," Father agreed.  
"Of course," said Felicity. "Anyway, since I am now eighteen and old enough to potentially get married-" here Ben looked up. "Then aren't I old enough to be away from home for a little while?" Her parents looked at each other. "You let Ben join the army when he was eighteen," Nan pointed out. "And going to France for six months is far less dangerous."  
"It is," said Father with a small smile. "And, Miss Lissie, we have been talking about this for a while now, and I know that Monsieur Beaumont has agreed to hire you."  
"Yes," said Felicity anxiously.  
"And I know that you are a young woman now," he went on. "And that you should be able to have a taste of being on your own."  
"Yes?" she asked. "So may I go?" Her parents looked at each other again. "Felicity," Mother finally sighed. "Do you promise to be careful?"  
"Yes."  
"And do you promise to act like the lady I know you are? I won't have the French thinking we don't know how to behave here."  
"Yes."  
Mother sighed again. "Well, then," she said with a smile. "Don't forget to write." Felicity's eyes widened. "I can go?" she asked.  
"Yes, Lissie," said Father. "You may go."

"I can go!" she exclaimed gleefully. "I can go! Thank you a thousand times!"  
"Ooh, Lissie!" squealed Polly. "France!"  
"I wish I could go with you," sighed Nan wistfully.  
"I'll write to you," Felicity promised. "I'm going to France! France! Me, Felicity Merriman, in France!"  
"Are you sure France is ready for you?" teased Ben, though his tone wasn't exactly humorous. She grinned at him. "I suppose we will find out!"

Later, before supper, the two of them were in the stable tending to the horses. "France," he said after a while. "You're really going all the way to France."  
"Mm-hm," she said with a smile. "I can hardly believe it. By the way, will you do me a favor?"  
"First drawer on the left," he said. Confused, she frowned, then rolled her eyes. "No, not that!" she said. "My goodness, you borrow a man's breeches once and you're branded for life!"  
"Twas more than once, Felicity," he said. "It was a month's worth." She just shook her head. "Anyway," she went on. "I was going to ask you to take care of Penny and Patriot while I'm gone. Next to me, you're the one they trust the most." This made him smile a little. "Well, I'm honored," he said. "And yes, I'll take care of them."  
"Thank you," she said. Then she sighed. "I still can't believe that I'm actually going to Europe!"  
"What I can hardly believe," he said. "Is that you are eighteen years old."  
"I know," she agreed. "It seems like it was just your eighteenth birthday!" He smiled a little. "Oh, to be young and innocent," he said. "Eighteen sounds like a little boy."  
"You're still young," she pointed out.  
"Physically," he said. "Mentally, I feel eighty."  
"I suppose that war will do that to a person," she said. He looked at her and smiled sadly. "Honestly, Felicity," he said. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I joined the army." Then he smacked his forehead. "God, I've got to stop doing that! See, the war has not only left me with a bad arm, but with bad language too!" Felicity shrugged. "Just try to break yourself of the habit," she said. "And I thought the same thing, though not quite those words. I was so afraid that I would never see you again, and I cried for about two consecutive hours after you left."  
"I was scared too," he said. "But I suppose that's natural if you're going off to war."  
"I have to admit," she said. "I've always admired how fearless you were about it, even though I didn't want you to leave." He smiled. "_Au_ _contraire, ma chérie,_" he said. "I wasn't exactly 'fearless'." She frowned. "Of course you were," she argued. "Any soldier is."  
"Do you know what bravery is?" he asked.  
"Not being afraid of anything," she answered. He shook his head. "That's being fearless," he said. "Being brave is being afraid of something but facing it anyway. That's what a soldier is." Felicity processed his words. He had a point there. Maybe people were right when they said that shyness was just a cover for someone who was deep. That, she was starting to think, was Ben's case. She glanced at him. The late sunlight shone off of his hair, and it seemed to give him a soft glow. His skin was tanned from the sun. He was handsome in a rustic, carefree way, yet could turn on a gentlemanly charm at the same time. He was quiet, but at the same time had some deep thoughts running through his mind. He was serious, but he knew how to laugh, though this didn't show very often. He was smart, but not necessarily cocky, and in Felicity's opinion, he was more worthy than all of the wealthiest gentlemen in Virginia put together. Then she frowned. "Did you just call me your darling?" she asked. He looked up and grinned. "I was just testing your French," he said. "So when you find that French husband, you'll know what he's saying to you." Felicity smiled and shook her head. "You know that's not going to happen," she said. He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "The French have a reputation for being romantic. Maybe one will win you over. That Jean Luc fellow seems to be taken with you already."  
"He is not!" she protested. "He's just being friendly because I will be with him for a few months."  
"Whatever you say, mademoiselle," he said in a French accent. Felicity just rolled her eyes.

A month passed, and soon it was the fateful day Felicity and Jean Luc departed. He came early that morning and joined them for breakfast. Ben was oddly quiet throughout the meal. Afterwards, Jean Luc and Mr. Merriman talked over some last minute details and started to pack up the carriage. Meanwhile, Felicity was upstairs in her bedroom with Nan. "Oh Lissie," sighed Nan as her sister dressed in her traveling clothes. "You are the luckiest girl in the world! And Jean Luc is ever so nice!"  
"Isn't he?" agreed Felicity.  
"I wish I could go to France with a Frenchman," sighed Nan, tucking a pin into Felicity's bun. "I will write to you," promised Felicity. "My goodness, I can't begin to tell you how nervous I am!"

"Why?" asked Nan.  
"I'm not going to Yorktown or anywhere like that by myself," Felicity explained. "I'm going across the ocean!"  
"You'll have Jean Luc."  
"I meant without Mother or Father. And France, Nan. Just think of it!"  
"Tis very exciting," said Nan. "At least I think it would be!"  
"I am very excited," said Felicity. "Just think of what they have in France, Nan! French gowns!"  
"French cheese!"  
"French wine!"  
"French boys!"  
Felicity laughed. "I'll try to bring one back for you," she promised. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to say goodbye to the horses before I leave."  
"But you still have an hour," pointed out Nan.  
"Believe me," said Felicity. "This may take some time."

It did end up taking some time, but not in the way she expected. Ben was giving the horses their breakfast when she got to the stable. He turned when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Especially dressed so nicely?"  
"Can't a girl say goodbye to her horses before she goes on a long trip?" asked Felicity by way of response. He smiled a little. "Well, I beg your pardon, then," he said. She went to Penny's stall and stroked her mane. "I'll miss you, girl," she murmured. "But don't worry, Ben will take good care of you, and I'll be back in time for Christmas." She turned to Patriot. "You hear that, my fine boy?" she asked. "I'll only be gone for a little while." She kissed both of their noses, then sat down next to Ben on a bale of hay. "I really will miss them," she said. "They may have just as many horses in France, but they don't have my Penny or Patriot."  
"I'm sure they will miss you too," he said. Penny whinnied as if to agree with him. "You see? She says, 'No, don't go! France is not that great!'." Felicity laughed a little. "She knows I'll be back," she said. Then she sighed. "Oh Ben, can you believe that in an hour, I'll be on my way to Europe?"  
"I still don't see what's wrong with Virginia," he said. "Right here where everyone loves you."  
"Virginia isn't the whole world," she said. "I don't want to stay in the same place my whole life. I want to see new places, meet new people, try new things."  
"But why?" he asked.  
"Because," she answered. "Life is short. You only get it once. I figure that life is a precious gift and it shouldn't be wasted. I want to make it count, to make the most of it. Perhaps it's the same reason you wanted to join the army."  
"I don't think I joined the army to make the most of my life," he said. "Probably quite the opposite, considering I almost lost it."  
"Then why did you?" she asked. Then she said, "Well, never mind. I suppose it was your passion for the Patriot cause." He sighed. "Maybe not entirely," he said. Felicity frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said. "That I don't think I joined entirely for the Patriot cause. I guess that my fifteen-year-old mind liked to think that I was willing to give my life for my country and it was my duty and all of that. It sounded so noble and heroic, like what you read in fairy tales." He smiled a little. "I remember imagining myself on some Godforsaken battlefield slashing enemies' throats," he continued. "I would face immense hardships and come home a great war hero. I now think that I didn't do it for my country as much as I did it for myself. I wanted to be brave and noble, to be more than just a shopkeeper's apprentice. Then maybe when I would look in the mirror, I'd see someone who actually mattered. Maybe like what you said, to make my life have some purpose."  
"And?" she asked softly. "What _do_ you see?" He was silent for a second. Then, his voice thick, he answered quietly, "A murderer. I've killed people before, Lissie, and I feel awful about it, and it's going to plague me for the rest of my life. I deserve to burn in hell forever."  
"No, no!" she exclaimed. "Don't talk like that! Ben, there's a difference between a murderer and a soldier. Your case is the latter, and it's kill or be killed."  
"But just thinking that I ended a life," he said. "A person with a family. He was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, even. I took that away from a family, from a person."  
"Every soldier did that to at least one man," said Felicity. "And don't forget, someone almost killed _you_."  
"Just the same," he said. "That doesn't make it right."  
"War isn't right," she said. "Yet it happens. People get killed. And so if you are indeed a murderer, it's you and the other thousands of men who risked their lives for their country." She paused, then added, "Not that I see you nor any other soldier as one." He hesitated, then asked shyly, "Then how _do_ you see me? Besides cold and bitter?" She thought a moment, then replied, "A spring crocus. One who thinks it is still winter and is afraid to open his petals." He stared at her blankly, then asked, "A what?"  
"Never mind," she said. "My point is that you are not a murderer. You are a soldier, a noble, brave soldier whom I am so very proud of." He glanced at her. "Really?" he asked softly. She nodded. "I'm proud of _you_," he whispered. "Of the fine young woman you've become. And I don't care if anyone thinks otherwise." She looked at him. His eyes were deep and haunting, desperately trying to tell her something, yet not being able to. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he brought her hand to his chest. She felt her heart start to flutter. His Adam's apple jerked. Then, before either one of them knew what was happening, Ben kissed her. Gently at first, his lips pressed to hers in a hard and stiff manner. Then his lips became softer and less tense. Her hand flew to the back of his head, and his strong arms encircled her waist and drew her closer until their bodies were touching. She could almost feel his heart beat as his tongue oh so gently touched hers. Faster and faster, like a hummingbird's wings. This kiss was definitely not an accident. He kissed her again and again with more and more fervor, and she responded with just as much...perhaps even more. She started to lie back, and he leaned forward into her. His vest buttons pressed into her breast. His hand gently rubbed her side, back and forth, back and forth. She held onto him, her hand rubbing circles on the small of his back, her other gently stroking his dark hair. Then as suddenly as it started, it ended. He did a soft moan and pulled away abruptly. "No," he said firmly. "No, we absolutely cannot be doing this." He let go of her and stood up to leave. Felicity's face fell in disappointment, then she frowned. That was it; she had had enough of his moodiness. "What is the _matter_ with you?" she demanded. He frowned. "What do you mean?"  
"I mean," she said, now standing in front of him. "That I can't talk to you without getting shot down. Then, out of the blue, you teach me how to spit! William makes us accidentally kiss, and you pulled away so abruptly as if you were completely disgusted. And yet you agree to play battledore and shuttlecock with me. You give me short, snippy answers, and then you show me that scar on your arm. You let me lie down on your lap, then when you accidentally fall asleep next to me, you react as though you had just left me with child! And now, you give me the most passionate kiss I've ever had, then you pull away as if the very idea of me was revolting! Why are you so up and down? You're as unpredictable as spring weather; sunny one day and rainy the next! What is wrong with you?" He was silent, then said quietly, "I wonder that myself every day." She raised an eyebrow, and he looked at her. "Do you want to know what's wrong with me?" he asked.  
"Yes," she answered.  
"Do you _really_ want to know?"  
"Yes."  
"Are you _absolutely sure_ you want to know?"  
"Good Lord, Ben, yes! " He sighed and sat back down. She sat next to him. "Fine," he said. "This is the matter." He paused, then blurted out, "I'm afraid."  
"Of what?" she inquired.  
"_This_," he said. "You. Getting too close to you. Being so naïve. Getting hurt. Again." She blinked, then shook her head. "Pray, be frank," she said. "I do not follow." He sighed again. "All right, listen," he said. "Obviously, I wasn't killed. Physically. As for my soul, yes, I was. And my murderer was not a soldier, nor was it the actual war. Well, perhaps the war was the majority of it, but the final straw was a woman's doing."  
"A woman?" she repeated. "How could a woman-" then it dawned on her. Her mouth formed a perfect "O". "Ohhh dear. I see." He nodded. "All right, who was it?"  
"Diana," he said. "As you know, she looked after me when I was in the hospital."  
"And?" she asked. "What happened?"  
"She was always very affectionate," he explained. "She was always holding my hand or touching my cheek or stroking my hair or something of that nature. She even kissed me when we found out about the British surrender! That night, a couple of men found an old barn and decided to have a dance in honor of the surrender. And, well, one thing led to another, and..."  
"No!" she gasped. "Oh Benjamin, you didn't!"  
"Didn't what?" he asked cluelessly. She raised her eyebrows. "_You_ know," she said. "_That_." He looked confused for a second. Then he laughed, "Oh, _that_? Well, sorry to disappoint, but no, I've got better standards than that. How can you even ask such a thing?"  
"I'm sorry!" she said. "It's just that soldiers tend to have-" she paused, looking for just the right words. "Looser morals."  
"Well, I didn't," he said. "Anyway, no, at one point I asked her to dance-"  
"Now that's even more shocking," she interrupted.  
"Will you let me finish?" he asked. "I asked her to dance, and she accepted." He smiled a little. "I still remember her clinging on to me for dear life! The music was a very lively tune, not like some stuffy waltz. Afterwards, we were both red in the face and laughing, and I- I had this sudden impulse to kiss her. She accepted pretty fervently, too. It was then that I realized that I loved her, and I told her this the very next day. And when I did-"  
"She rejected you," she finished. "You needn't say more. Tis one of the oldest stories in the book." He nodded sadly. "She was the first girl I've ever loved," he said. "And her rejection just made everything else one hundred times worse. Losing friends, being shot in the arm and nearly losing it, nearly losing my life, just the war in general." He looked at her seriously. "War is hell, Felicity," he said. "For soldiers and civilians alike. It damages cities, houses, families, and people. Because of it, I feel like my soul itself has been shattered into a million pieces. And then Diana...well, she just shattered it into a million more pieces."  
"Let me get this straight," she said. "You've been cold and standoffish because of a _woman_?"  
"Not just a woman," he said. "If you saw women crying over their dead husbands, one of your closest friends die of smallpox, a fellow soldier branded as a coward, people you had grown close to get shot in the stomach and die almost instantly, another close friend with nothing but a stub for an arm, fellow soldiers missing an eye, death's door, and then the person you loved telling you that they didn't love you after all of that, I think you would be cold too." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I'm acting foolish, that I'm being weak or womanish. You're probably thinking, 'All right, Ben has completely lost it', and maybe I have." Felicity shook her head. "No," she said. "What I'm thinking is that this man didn't deserve all of that." He smiled a little. "That's another thing," he said. "I did deserve it." Now she frowned. "How so?"  
"I deserved everything I got," he said. "The night before I was hurt, John and I were talking, and I said that I wasn't very worried about battle because I had lived through far worse over those four years. Then he said that God could still make me lose an arm or leg like Luke. Then I scoffed at God, saying that He had nothing to do with it and that I could make sure if my own fate without Him. Well, obviously, He showed me. Then by His mercy, he healed my arm. But I don't think He was done with me after that. He took Diana from me, which I now think was my Divine Punishment."  
"You could look at it like that," she said. "Or Diana simply wasn't the one He had planned for you. Besides, if He really wanted to punish you, I think He would have taken your life, either on the battlefield or at home. But He spared it."

"I don't know why," he said. "Sometimes, many times, I wish it were me who was dead instead of Matthew. Everyone loved him; he had a woman back home who he was going to marry, and they even had a child! He was needed. Me, on the other hand, have no purpose. No money, no wife, no children. I'm nothing but a waste of space, and I should be the one dead, not him." Felicity's eyes widened. "How can you say something like that?" she asked. "Tis terrible that Matthew died, but that doesn't mean that you should have!"  
"I wish I had," he said. "Really, Felicity, what purpose does my life have? I think that The Lord sparing my life was more of a curse than a blessing." She closed her eyes. "I wish you wouldn't think like that," she said. "If only you saw what I can see." He cracked a small smile. "I've seen crocuses," he said. She frowned. "I'm serious," she said. "You shouldn't be sitting around miserable wallowing in self pity all the time. The Good Lord spared your life for a reason. You obviously have some greater purpose, or else He probably would have taken you."

"Maybe," he murmured. "Yet somehow I have a hard time believing that. In anything." She took his hands and looked at him seriously. "God forgives you," she said. "He loves you. More than anyone here on earth. He let you live because He loves you and has a purpose for you." Ben shook his head sadly. "I have a hard time keeping faith," he said. "I've seen too much pain and suffering to believe that there is a God; or at least one who loves us." Felicity sighed. "You, Benjamin Davidson, are one of the most troubled souls I've ever met. You could have lost your arm. But you didn't. That bullet could have killed you instantly, as could the fever. But it didn't. As for Diana, she wasn't the one He had planned for you. He will show you her when the time is right. You are a prime example of God's grace." He just sighed. "Now," she added. "Will you please explain very simply why you're afraid of...getting too close to me or something?"  
"Didn't I just tell you?" he asked.  
"No," she replied. "You just said something about Diana and then about how you wished it were you instead of Matthew who died."  
"Well, it was the something about Diana," he said. "I was being naïve with her, fooling myself into thinking that she returned my love, and look what happened. I don't want to get to close to you and have the same thing happen."  
"Why would it?" she asked. He sighed and buried his head in his hands. "You're really going to make me say this," she heard him murmur. "Yes," she said. "Though I'm not sure what it is." He looked up at her seriously. "Listen," he said. "In my twenty-three years, I'll admit, I've liked a few girls. I've loved one. But Felicity, I-" he paused and closed his eyes. "I love you more than all of them put together." For a second, she thought she misheard him. When she realized that she was hearing correctly, she just shook her head. "Well," she finally said. "You certainly do have a funny way of showing it."  
"I know," he agreed. "Because I'm afraid to. I don't want to go through the same thing as I did with Diana."  
"What makes you think I would?" she asked.  
"Well, wouldn't you?" he asked. "If she couldn't love me, I doubt anyone could."  
"And why is that?" He laughed without humor. "What did I just tell you?" he said. "I'm too quiet, I'm hanging on by a thread, and I'm bitter." She paused before taking his hand. "Well, I love you," she said. "And I don't think you are any of those things. Even if I said them." Ben seemed a bit taken aback. "Really?" he finally whispered. She nodded. "Really."  
"And I you," he murmured. Then he groaned and dropped her hand. "But what of it?" Now she frowned. "What do you mean, 'what of it'?" she asked.  
"I mean, what of it?" he repeated. "Tis too rash, too sudden! Too unthought out, too hasty."  
"What's there to figure out?" she asked. "I love you, you love me, is it not as simple as that?"  
"Yes," he said. "I mean no. I mean…oh very well, I don't know what I mean. No, tis not that simple. Love isn't simple. It's a beautiful thing, but it's also scary. Very scary. Besides, how many men have you truly loved?" Felicity thought a minute, then said, "You would be the first."  
"You see?" he said. "How do I know that you know that you love me when you may not even know what real love is?"

"I know what real love is," she said with a frown. "Tis deeper than a physical attraction, I can tell you that much. Even if you are the first and only man I've ever truly loved." He smiled sadly. "Lissie, you're only eighteen," he said. "You can't possibly."  
"Of course I can!" she said. "Just as well as you can!"  
"You're six years younger than me," he said. "I didn't know what it was when I was your age."  
"First of all," she said hotly. "You are five and a half years older than me, not six. Second of all, you say 'when I was your age' as if you were _so_ much older than me, as if you were the parent and I was the child. And third of all, you and I are two separate people. You were a teenage boy, and your idea of love was based on...that one thing, though thankfully you knew not to act on it. I am a teenage girl. My idea of love is more mature than that. A teenage girl is more mature than a teenage boy; things run deeper for her."  
"Are you saying that I'm confusing lust for love?" he asked, sounding appalled. "No," she said. "You are older now; you know that real love runs deeper than that. As do I."  
"You don't know that," he said. "You may say that you love me too hastily, perhaps because I said it first and you feel obligated to as well. Or perhaps you only think that you love me, when really, you haven't the slightest idea what it is to be in love."  
"I do so!" she argued. "And I know that I love you!"  
"And then, hypothetically speaking, you go to France with Jean Luc, stay there with him, get married, and then have dozens of little Louis's and Marie Antoinette's," he said bitterly. "Don't play dumb, either, I've seen the way he looks at you."  
"I don't care if he looks at me as if I were the Queen of Sheba," she said firmly. "Jean Luc is very nice, and I like him as a person and travel companion. But I would never feel the same way about him as I do you."  
"He's French," he pointed out. "He's wealthy. He could give you everything your heart desired."  
"I prefer my Virginian to a wealthy Frenchman," she said.  
"Don't be foolish, Lissie," he said. "I've got no money, perhaps five cents in my pocket, and I've got nothing to offer you."  
"You will someday," she said. He smiled again. "That's someday," he said. "Life is full of somedays, and often those somedays never come. I can't expect you to wait around for me until I can provide for you, nor do I ask you to. Be sensible; don't fool yourself into thinking that you love me. For both of our sakes."  
"I'm not fooling myself!" she exclaimed. "Good Lord, tis as if you were trying to talk me out of it!"  
"That's just it," he said. "I am." Her face fell in disappointment. "What?" she asked quietly.  
"I don't want to love you," he said. "And I don't want you to love me. I don't know if I can believe you because frankly, my dear, I don't think you know what you're talking about."  
"So let me get this straight," she said. "You don't want my love because you don't think it's real."  
"Precisely," he said. "I don't think you know what love is, and you're jumping into it too quickly." He then sighed. "I'm sorry, Felicity, but-please don't take offense-I don't completely trust you. I'm afraid that it is just a giddy, girly feeling that you are mistaking for love. And then, boom! The moment you lay eyes on another man, you'll have those feelings for him instead." She shook her head. "How blind can you be?" she asked, now angry. "You wallow because Diana rejected you, then when the woman you love returns your affections, you don't believe her! Ben, what an idiot you are!" Now he looked angry. "What did you just call me?" he asked softly. For a moment, she was intimidated, for he was much bigger than she was. Then she remembered his gentle nature and that he wouldn't lay a finger on her. "You heard me," she said simply. He sighed, exasperated, and closed his eyes. "Foolish, foolish little girl," he said. "I am not blind, and I am not an idiot. I've seen more than you have, and I know what and what not to be wary of, whereas you would just prefer to jump into things without thinking them through first. As always."  
"I am _not_ a little girl!" she argued. "And you know that perfectly well, Benjamin Davidson! I am eighteen years old, and I love you with all of my heart. Whether you like it or not. And I am not being spontaneous."  
"Say it all you like," he said, his voice rising. "I still don't believe you."  
"_Why_?" she asked, getting exasperated. "Why will you not believe me?"  
"I've told you!" he snapped. "You're too flighty. I don't know that you're not mistaking love for giddy, flirtatious feelings, which changes like the moon in a monthly pattern, and neither do you. You could say that you love me today, and in six months be wed to Jean Luc. Or anyone else who takes your fancy. You are too headstrong. Too much like…" he paused, looking for a comparison. "Like Juliet. You don't know what you're getting yourself into before you're already knee-deep in trouble simply because you liked the idea. I can't let myself believe you only to be sorely disappointed."  
"So do you think I am not faithful?" she asked. "That I wouldn't be loyal to you? That I'm some kind of…" her voice trailed off, yet he knew what she was trying to say.  
"No," he said. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that you are too young yet, that your emotions can change easily. Tis just your inexperience, and I can't believe you when you say it."  
"Then why do you love me?" she asked. "If you think I'm too quickly won?" He smiled a wry smile. "Felicity Merriman," he said. "You're not exactly a walk in the park. You are persistent, annoying, sometimes a brat, even! Yet under that, you are a beautiful, strong young woman who is not afraid to speak her mind. You are not one to sit around and look pretty, being as dumb and docile as a rock. There is a fire to you, and though that fire can sometimes make me want to shoot myself, I love it at the same time. But I don't want to rush into things too quickly. I acted on impulse with Diana, and I'm not going to do the same with you, nor do I want you to. That's all." Felicity shook her head. "You are the most aggravating man I've ever met," she said. "You've never been so prudent about anything else; why now?" He hesitated, not knowing what to say. "I don't know," he finally admitted. She laughed without humor. "And you think _I_ don't know my own mind," she scoffed. He looked down. "I'm sorry, Felicity," he said. "I don't know why. I-I just don't want either one of us to get hurt."  
"And I suppose that it would be useless to try to convince you that we wouldn't."  
"You would be correct."  
She sighed. "Well, then," she said. "If you think that this won't work out, what do we do?"  
"Forget about each other," he said. "You go to France, find someone who can give you much more than I can, be happy, and completely forget about me."  
"And you?" she asked. "What would you do?"  
"Try with all my might to forget about you," he said.  
"Could you?"  
"Probably not." He stood up. "But don't worry about me; I'll be fine."  
"I'm not so sure about that."  
"Well, be sure," he said. "Don't strap yourself down because of my feelings. What if, for argument's sake, you and I were married, and a year later you discovered that you were miserable because you acted too quickly?" She didn't answer. "You see?" he said. "You don't know that you wouldn't. And you shouldn't have to. I'm nothing, Felicity, so don't fool yourself into thinking you love me."  
"I'm not fooling myself," she whispered. He touched her cheek. "Maybe you're not," he said. "But I don't know that, and you may not either." She closed her eyes at his touch. He was torturing her. She opened them again, and his eyes looked sad. "Why can't this just be as simple as 'I love you'?" she asked quietly.

"We aren't boy and girl anymore, Felicity," he said. "We are man and woman now. Things are different. As man and woman, nothing is simple." He took her hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry," he whispered. And he left without another word.

She sat there, slightly stunned by what had just happened. He loved her, yet he rejected her. She looked down at her hand. She could still feel his kiss upon it Without wanting to, she felt tears well up in her eyes. She tried to brush them away, because she thought it was a foolish thing to cry about, but what was the use? She let them fall. And, of course, a few minutes later, Nan came in. She frowned when she saw her sister in tears (believe it or not, this was rather a rare sight, being that Felicity didn't let anyone see her cry). "Lissie?" she asked. "Are you all right?" Felicity looked up and tried to smile. "I'm all right," she lied. "I just...a bug flew into my eye, that's all." Nan wasn't stupid. She sat next to her. "Both eyes?" she asked skeptically. "Something is wrong. What is it?" Felicity shook her head. "It's nothing," she said. "Tis stupid, really."  
"What is it?" asked Nan gently.  
"It's…it's Ben, that's all," said Felicity, trying to wipe her tears away.  
"What did he do?" Nan asked. Felicity's lip quivered. "He…he told me he loved me!" she said, fresh tears spilling over. Nan frowned. "And is that bad?" she asked. Felicity looked up. "Oh Nan!" she cried. "Tis so complicated, I barely understand it myself! He loves me, I love him, yet he thinks that I'm too young to be sure that I do and therefore doesn't completely believe me. He says he wants to be careful, not to act on impulse. Or something like that." Nan was quiet for a second. Then she said, "At least he's being sensible. Which is more than he used to be."  
"I don't care!" moaned Felicity. "Sensibility, I think, is sometimes overrated."  
"Well, you'll need to talk to him, Lissie," Nan said. "That's the only way this will get resolved."  
"Is that not what I just did?" asked Felicity.  
"After you both calm down a bit," said Nan. "And can talk rationally." She stood up. "I'll go find him; I'd like to have a word with him myself." Felicity grabbed her arm. "No!" she cried. "Please don't, Nan! I really don't want to see him right now."  
"Fine," said Nan. "But you'll have to at some point. In the meantime, just forget about him. You're going to France in half an hour, Lissie, France! Don't waste your time there sulking over him. Pinch yourself if you start to."  
"I'll try," Felicity promised.  
"Good," said Nan. "Now go wipe your face. You don't want it to be red and blotchy when you leave."

An hour later, one couldn't tell that Felicity had been crying. She was the picture of grace as she boarded the ship with Jean Luc. Her family came to the dock to say goodbye. All except Ben, who opted to stay behind and open the store for, well, obvious reasons. Felicity knew good and well that the store wasn't the reason he stayed behind, but she tried not to think about it. "Oh, my Lissie," said Mrs. Merriman as she hugged her daughter goodbye. "Who would have ever thought that you would make it to France?"  
"Not many people do, that's for sure," Felicity agreed. "But I suppose I'm just one of the lucky ones."  
"Lucky indeed!" said Nan. "You'll write, won't you?"  
"Naturally," said Felicity, now hugging her father. "Though don't expect more than one or two letters; mail travels slow throughout the colonies. Can you imagine how slow it will take from Europe?"  
"Just the same," said Father. "We look forward to it. Be careful, now."  
"I will," she promised. Polly hung onto her skirt. "Please don't go!" she begged. "Or at least take me with you!" Felicity laughed and pried her youngest sister off of her. "I would if I could," she said. "But I'll be back. And you'll still have Nan and William."  
"And Ben," William added. Felicity frowned. "Don't expect much out of him," she said bitterly. Jean Luc then came up. "Tis time to go," he said. "Are you ready, Miss Merriman?"  
"Aye," she said. She hugged everyone one last time. "Have you got your good shoes?" asked Mother.  
"Yes," said Felicity.  
"Evening dresses?"  
"Yes."  
"Hat?"  
"Yes."  
"Day dresses?"  
"Yes."  
"Nightgown?"  
"Yes."  
"Cloak?"  
"Mother!"  
"Have you?"  
"Yes! Now please, I must go!" Mrs. Merriman smiled. "I know, I know," she said. "Oh Lissie, have a lovely time!"  
"I will!" said Felicity. "Goodbye!" And she followed Jean Luc onto the great ship.

After getting settled in the cabin, the first thing Felicity did was drag Jean Luc to wave from the deck. As the ship left the dock, she waved like an idiot. "Goodbye!" she called over and over. As Williamsburg got smaller and smaller, she closed her eyes and smiled. She let the wind whip her hair to and fro and breathed in the salty air. "I've never been farther than Yorktown in my life," she said. "Much less at sea." Jean Luc closed his eyes as well. "I think you will like it," he said. "Unless, of course, you get seasick."  
"Do you?" she asked. He shook his head. "Not very often," he said. "I love it at sea."  
"I do already," she said. She inhaled deeply. "My, that air smells good! I don't even mind the fact that it will turn my hair into a mess!"  
"Not if you stay indoors," he said.  
"Where's the fun in that?" she said. Then she asked, "Are you excited to be going back to France?" His blue eyes sparkled like the ocean below them. "Oui!" he answered. "I have not seen my family in over a year! I do hope you will like it there."  
"I'm sure I shall," she said. Then she grinned. "But I must warn you, my French is terrible." He grinned back. "Not as terrible as my English, I will bet," he said. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Don't be so hard on yourself," she said. "Your English is _très bien._" He grinned again. "_Merci_, _mademoiselle_," he said. She smiled at him. Six months with Jean Luc Beaumont would be _très bien, très bien_ indeed.

Felicity came to like it at sea. She liked to stand on the deck and let the salty air whip her hair back and forth, no matter how frizzy and hard to manage it became. Jean Luc preferred to stay inside so not to burn his pale skin. Felicity found this rather effeminate of him, but that was what gentlemen did, no matter how silly it was. However, she couldn't help but think, "Ben doesn't care if his skin gets dark." Then she would pinch herself for thinking of him and go back to admiring the boundless sea all around her. She liked to think of all the diverse life that thrived just under her feet. She liked to look out on the horizon and see nothing but open ocean. It gave her a peaceful, easy feeling. Naturally, though, there were things that she was not so fond of. For one thing, she hated storms, and she hated getting seasick (this usually happened during a storm). She didn't like wobbling every time she took a step, and if she thought that Ben could swear (this got another pinch), he was a saint compared to the crew. When she was around them, she heard curse words that she never knew existed. For the most part, however, she liked it. She and Jean Luc were in first class, and their cabin was elegant yet cozy with their separate bedchambers (which had actual beds!) She enjoyed meals in a grand dining room, small, but nice nonetheless. There weren't many wealthy people, so there weren't too many people to socialize with (Jean Luc wouldn't let her go below the decks and see the third class cabins), which made it rather quiet, and therefore boring. However, Felicity managed to make some friends her age, as well as Jean Luc, who she was beginning to know quite well. One stormy night, she skipped supper on account of seasickness, and he stayed with her to keep her company. It was during this time that she learned a brief bit of his history. He had lived in France all his life, he had been in America a few years in the French navy during the war, and he spoke German and Italian in addition to French and English. She then said that she only knew a little French, explained that she knew someone who had fought in the war as well, and that she had a certain love for horses. She told him about Penny and Patriot and how she already missed them. "You miss home, I gather?" he asked after a while. She smiled weakly. "A little," she admitted. "But not too terribly much. I'll be back in six months. I suppose you are excited to see your mother and father again."  
"I am afraid I will not see my mother for quite a while," he said sadly. "She is with the Holy Virgin in Heaven." Felicity did a little gasp. "Oh my goodness," she murmured. He nodded. "When I was fourteen," he said. "She died giving birth to my youngest brother, Christophe. He is seven now." Felicity mentally added ages. "So then that makes you...twenty-one," she concluded. He nodded. "I will be twenty-two in October," he said.  
"That's funny," she said. "Ben's birthday is in October as well. He's my father's apprentice, by the way. Ben Davidson. You remember him, don't you?" Jean Luc paused, then nodded. "Yes," he said. "The tall dark-haired one?"  
"That would be him," she said.  
"Handsome fellow, he is," he remarked. Felicity nodded. "He is," she replied quietly. "He is indeed." Jean Luc gave her a sideways glance, but she quickly changed the subject. "Well, I'm sorry about your mother," she said. "I couldn't imagine if either one of my parents died."  
"It is a terrible experience," he agreed. "One that I wish upon no one." Then he looked at his pocket watch. "It is getting late," he remarked. "I think I will retire to bed." He kissed her hand, making her stomach lurch. "_Bonne nuit, mademoiselle._"  
"_Bonne nuit, Monsieur_," she replied. After he left, she closed the door and slipped into her nightgown. Somehow, when Jean Luc kissed her hand, it just didn't feel the same as when Ben did. _Ben_. Why couldn't she get him out if her head? She didn't want to ruin a once in a lifetime trip thinking about him. Yet she couldn't stop. Benjamin, her mind (or heart; she couldn't tell which) kept whispering. Benjamin. Benjamin. Benjamin. "Stop it," she scolded herself. "He doesn't want you anyway, so stop wasting precious thoughts on him." And with that, she blew out the candle and let the gentle waves lull her to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 15_

As the month crawled by, Felicity began to grow a bit bored. After a while, there really wasn't much to do on a ship. She had brought along her father's collection of Shakespeare for reading material, but every time she read it, every Hamlet, Romeo, Lysander, or any other lover became Ben in her mind, which made her pinch herself, and finally she decided that Shakespeare was only hurting her emotionally as well as physically, so she gave up and reread _Gulliver's Travels_. She and Jean Luc got to know each other quite well just in that month, and talked about anywhere from younger siblings to Caleb and Elizabeth. By the time they finally arrived in France, she knew nearly everything about him, right down to how he celebrated his fifth birthday. The day they arrived was a relief to Felicity; a month on a ship could start to drive a person crazy, especially when there wasn't much to do.

After they got off of the ship, it took them another two days to reach the Beaumont residence. It was late when they got there. Despite how tired she was, Felicity was nervous. How would they react to her? These were wealthy, upper class people, and French, no less. The fact that they were Elizabeth's inlaws was little consolation, considering that she had never met them herself. Neither had Caleb, really, at least not since he was a little boy. She stared up at the house in awe. It was an old brick house with ivy creeping up the side. It had huge windows, and was a good three stories high. It was almost as grand as the Templeton's manor back in Williamsburg. The property was huge, at least from what she could see. She could see a large stable a hundred feet away, and she could see the beginning of a large vineyard way in the back. She saw a grand garden on the side of the house, which she imagined would be a place where she would be quite content. Now, however, she could only gape. Jean Luc seemed to read her mind. "Do not be nervous," he said. "They will love you." She could only manage a weak smile. He led her inside the manor, which seemed even more grand on the inside than out. The foyer was large and airy, with a grand marble staircase in the corner. A large chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, which was decorated with images of angels. She stood in the grand doorway, her mouth hanging half open. She stayed in her trance until Jean Luc gently pulled her over to let the servant through with their trunks. "Papa?" he called. A second later, an older looking man emerged from the door straight across the room. He was shorter than Jean Luc, and his hair was gray (perhaps it was a wig; she couldn't tell). A pair of circular spectacles rested on his nose. He was a bit heavyset, but looked like a jovial sort of character. His face lit up when he saw his son. "Jean!" he exclaimed, rushing over and hugging Jean Luc tightly. Jean Luc smiled and hugged him back, truly happy to see his father again. Monsieur Beaumont then drew away and studied his son. The two chattered in rapid French for a moment, and Felicity stood politely off to the side, hands folded neatly in front of her, waiting to be introduced. Jean Luc then looked at her and smiled. He took her hand and brought her forward. "Papa," he said in English. "May I introduce Miss Felicity Merriman, the young lady who has so generously agreed to tutor the children for a few months, as well as a close friend of Caleb's fair wife, Elizabeth. And, Miss Merriman, this is my father, Alexandre Beaumont." Felicity dipped into a shy curtsy. "Bonsoir, Monsieur," she murmured. Monsieur Beaumont smiled and kissed her hand politely. "Enchànte, Mademoiselle," he said. "And welcome!"

"Merci," she said with a soft smile. "I am very glad to be here."

"The pleasure is all ours," he said. He had a very heavy French accent, heavier than Jean Luc's. Then, three little heads poked through the banister of the grand staircase. Jean Luc saw them and grinned. "Ah," he said. "And of course…"

"Jean Luc!" they cried, running down the stairs to meet their brother's embrace. There were two little girls, identical, with curly blonde hair and green eyes. They were probably about ten or so. The boy also had his sisters' curly blonde hair, though his eyes were brown, and he had freckles. "_Sommer Sprossen_," she thought, then pinched herself yet again. The girls hugged Jean Luc's waist tightly, and he lifted the boy high in the air. They all chattered in rapid French, then one of the girls looked at Felicity. "C'est la gouvernante?" she asked, pointing at her. Jean Luc nodded with a grin. "Mais oui," he answered. The boy looked at her. "Parlez-vous français?" he asked. Felicity also smiled and knelt to their eye level. "Oui," she answered. "Bonsoir, Monsieur, mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Mademoiselle Merriman." The three gawked at her, in awe of the American lady who spoke their language. "This is Christophe," said Monsieur Beaumont, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "And these are the twins, Jeanette and Isabella."

"Like the Christmas carol," added Jean Luc.

"Clever," said Felicity, wondering how on earth she was going to tell them apart. As if reading her thoughts-again-Jean Luc said, "The shorter one with the birthmark is Jeanette, and the taller one is Isabella."

"Thank you," she whispered. Then Monsieur Beaumont said, "You two must be exhausted, though I insist on hearing about your trip in the morning. In the meantime, Adèle will show you to your chamber, Mademoiselle."

"Merci," she said as the maid appeared.

"Follow me, s'il vous plaît," said Adèle. Felicity bid the rest of them _bonne_ _nuit_ and followed the maid upstairs.

Her bedchamber seemed larger than the parlor back home. The bed looked as though it could sleep three people, easily. The bedspread was white lace, and the curtains matched. A dark mahogany dressing table was directly across from the bed, and a white ornate mirror rested on top of it. Next to it stood a large clothes press, also a deep mahogany. The walls were painted white, and in the southeast corner of the room was a little sofa and fireplace. Directly across from it stood a pair of long French windows. She pulled the curtains back. Even though it was dark, she could see the outline of the small trees. She saw the vineyard, which stretched seemingly endlessly into the night. She smiled and drew the curtains again. She then looked up at the ceiling, where biblical scenes were carved out. How she wished she had Nan here to share this glorious room! It was the room of royalty. She then opened her trunk and dug out her nightgown. It was a mess, but she figured that she could iron and put her clothes away later. As she rummaged through it, her hand hit something hard. With a frown, she pulled it out, and then laughed when she realized it was her old doll Susanna. There was a note tied to her leg, written in Nan's elegant script. It read:  
_You didn't forget about me, did you, Lissie? If Nan or Polly can't come with you, at least I can, can't I?_  
Felicity laughed again and shook her head, then held the doll close to her heart. Somehow, her tiny silk dress was very comforting. It reminded her of home. Nan may have been prim and proper, but she did have a sense of humor. Still holding the doll, Felicity changed into her nightgown and climbed into the soft, heavenly cloud that was her bed.

She awoke the next morning to the curtains being thrust apart and sunlight hitting her closed eyes. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal Adèle, the maid. "Bonjour, mademoiselle!" she said cheerfully, pulling the covers back. "It is time to rise!" Felicity sat up. "Hm?" she asked sleepily. Adèle slipped Felicity's nightgown over her head, which she had not expected. Her hands flew to her bare shoulders, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of coldness. Adèle folded it and put it on the nearby chair. She then took the wash basin and pressed a warm, wet cloth to Felicity's face and neck. Next she took her underthings and started to slip them over her head. Finally, she reached for the gown, the simple blue one Felicity had laid out the night before and buttoned her up. She then pinned up her stubborn hair flawlessly and pinned a pinner cap on top. "There," she said. "And now Mademoiselle is ready!" Felicity just blinked, not quite sure what had just happened. "Um-Madame," she said. "This is very kind of you…but I am capable of dressing myself."

"Oh no, no, mademoiselle!" said Adèle. "You are the guest! You must not do anything for yourself! Please, do not rob us of the pleasure of serving you!" Felicity raised an eyebrow, hardly thinking it a pleasure, but she didn't object. After all, if someone was willing to serve you to your heart's content, you can't say no, can you? "Merci," she said finally. "That is very kind of you."

Felicity made her way down the marble staircase and into the grand dining room. Monsieur Beaumont and Jean Luc were already seated around the table. They smiled when she came in. "Bonjour, Mademoiselle," said Monsieur Beaumont. "I hope you slept well?"

"Very, thank you," said Felicity, sitting next to Jean Luc. He smiled at her again.

"I hope you are hungry," he said, gesturing to the plethora of food in front of them. She nodded and helped herself to a slice of ham. Soon the children came downstairs, sleep still in their eyes. They reminded her a little of William and Polly. Throughout the meal, Monsieur Beaumont asked about the trip, the colonies, Caleb and Elizabeth, and Felicity's family. She explained that she had three little siblings and that her father owned a general store. She mentioned Penny and Patriot, and she told about Elizabeth's and Caleb's romantic affair from a few years ago. She explained all of the messy details that went with it, then told how she and Elizabeth had been friends since they were nine. In telling about her life, however, she tactfully left out any mention of Ben. Jean Luc didn't notice, which was just as well. No one needed to know about their…affair, for lack of a better term.

After breakfast commenced her first lesson with the children. It wasn't much of a lesson, however; she set the day aside to get to know them better. Christophe was indeed seven, and his sisters were eleven. She learned their interests, which included pretty dresses, dancing, tea parties, horses, pretend sword fights, and climbing trees (you, the reader, can no doubt figure out whose interests were whose). She learned their favorite foods, colors, subjects, and games. She learned their hobbies, their birthdays, their likes, and their hates. The children seemed shy at first, but within ten minutes were talking her ear off, chattering rapidly about this, that, and the other thing. They asked about her family and where they lived and what her father did. They ranted about their own father and older brother and gossiped about the servants, which were good, which were bad, and which were having an affair with one another. Felicity didn't always catch what they were saying and had to ask them to repeat, but finally she gave up and resorted to smiling and nodding. By the end of the morning lesson, she was able to see that Jeanette was the more outgoing of the twins, while Isabella was more reserved. Christophe was even more talkative than both of them put together. He was very curious about America, and specifically about his cousins there. "What is it like in America?" he inquired (in French, naturally) "Is it really wild?" His eyes were wide with curiosity. Felicity laughed. "Not at all," she said. "Tis quite civilized. People live in small cottages on farms, and they live in good-sized houses in town. Some own large plantations in the countryside. There are stores and taverns and jails and doctors and lawyers and blacksmiths and carpenters and butchers and printers and every other occupation you can think of! There are big mansions where lords and ladies live, and where I live, there is a palace where the royal governor used to live. Until the war came, and he and his family fled back to England."

"War?" asked wide-eyed Isabella. Felicity nodded."For our independence from England," she said. "Your country helped us win. Your brother, even! For a few years, he was away in the navy." The girls' faces lit up in remembrance. "He was fighting in a war?" asked Jeanette, and Felicity nodded again. "That is why he was gone for a while," she explained. "That war was the most frightening thing I've ever seen, and I hope to never see anything like it again. It was a nightmare at home, even for those of us who weren't fighting."

"What was it like?" asked Christophe. She sighed. "Horrifying," she replied. "That's the best way I can describe it. It ruined people's houses, towns, and worst of all, lives. It took our loved ones away from us. Even if they returned home safely, they had seen so much that it scarred them for the rest of their lives. Emotionally, not just physically. They didn't always have food, and their clothes were tattered rags. Some didn't even have shoes! And back home, it wasn't much better. We didn't always have food either, and we had to fear for our lives just to go outside." The children gaped at her for a second. Then Isabella said, "People here don't always have a lot to eat either. Especially in Paris. Not because of war, though." Felicity frowned. She always pictured Paris to be a lovely, elegant city, not a starving, poverty-stricken one. "Why don't they?" she asked. Isabella shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "Papa once said something about them not being able to work and higher food prices."

"Hm," said Felicity. "Well, unfortunately, there is poverty everywhere in the world, isn't there? Let us just be thankful that we aren't one of them."

"Even in America?" asked Christophe, and Felicity nodded sadly. "Even in America," she said.

"Are our cousins poor?" asked Jeanette. Felicity bit her lip and chose her words carefully. "They are not wealthy," she said. "But I wouldn't call them 'poor'. You see, Caleb and his brother Zachary own a carpentry shop together. It was their father's before he gave it to them. They have a steady income, and Caleb is able to provide for himself and his wife and, down the road, I imagine children." They smiled. "What are they like?" asked Isabella.

"I don't know the family very well," said Felicity. "But they seem like gentle, loving people, even if they don't have much money." She then smiled. "Caleb is a lovely man," she said. "He works hard, and he is good at what he does. He's funny, too. Whenever his wife gets mad at him for whatever reason, he turns on this charm that somehow softens her and makes her forget what she was angry about."  
"How old is he?" asked Jeanette.

"Twenty-two," Felicity answered. "His wife is nearly eighteen."

"What does he look like?" asked Christophe.

"He's tall," said Felicity. "He's tall, and he's blonde. He's got light blue eyes, and a gentle smile. He looks a little like Jean Luc, actually."

"And his wife?" asked Isabella. "What is her name?"

"Elizabeth," said Felicity. "She was my best friend growing up, and she still is. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here. She's petite, and she's also got blonde hair and blue eyes. She's English, you know." This got their attention even more. "Then why is she in America?" asked Christophe. "And married to a Frenchman?"

"They moved from London when she was nine," she explained. "And Caleb is an American. He's just got a French mother." Jeanette frowned. "Still," she said. "I didn't think Americans and the British liked each other. Why would she marry an American?"

"Tis a long, romantic story," said Felicity. "One that I will tell another time." The children's faces fell. "Oh, tell it now!" they begged. "S'il vous plaît, mademoiselle?" She laughed. "Another time," she promised. "For now, girls, go get your needles and thread. I'd like to see your samplers."

Felicity settled into French life easily. In the weeks that followed, she grew very close with the children and enjoyed their lessons. She worked with them on topics from penmanship and dancing to math and history, all the while teaching them English. Within a week, all three children could say, "Hello, my name is Jeanette/Isabella/Christophe. What is your name?" Every evening after supper, Jean Luc liked to take her on strolls in the vineyard, which she found lovely. She became accustomed to being served like a queen, and even started to dress the part. Often, aunts and cousins nearby would stop in and play dress-up with the "sweet, darling American girl." They made a pet out of her, exchanging her plain American clothes for elaborate French gowns and styling her hair elaborately. Wool and cotton were exchanged for chiffon and silk. Her black, heavy shoes were replaced with tiny brocade slippers that pinched her toes tremendously, though she didn't say anything about it. Painted, beaded combs took the place of simple hair pins. By the time they were finished, Felicity hardly recognized herself. She tried French wine and French cheese and escargot, which she found out were snails _after_ she ate them (this did little to impress her). She started to feel like a cultured young lady instead of a gawky, horse-loving little girl. She soon had a womanly charm and wit about her that somehow is only found in France, and by the time the first party was had, she had became everyone's chèrie.

One Sunday afternoon, Jean Luc offered to take her to Paris for the day. Naturally, she accepted. The city wasn't exactly what she had expected. The houses were crammed together, and the streets were dirty. The stench of rotting food filled her nostrils as they walked through the marketplaces. At the same time, the scent of freshly baked bread wafted out of bakeries. She saw hungry, ragged children playing in the streets, and a weary looking mother calling them from a shabby looking front porch. As they walked along, she saw bakeries and butchers and milliners and every other kind of shop one could think of. As Jean Luc took her inside one of the bakeries to get some bread, she couldn't help but notice how sparse the place was, save for a few well-dressed patrons. After they left, they had not been walking five minutes before a ragged man pulled on Felicity's arm, begging her to spare a piece of bread. Jean Luc hissed, "No, now come along," and once he pulled Felicity away, she started to feel sorry. After they were a safe distance away, she said, "Pardon me, Jean Luc, I'd like to see something." He nodded. "Don't go far," he said. She agreed and turned the corner to where the beggar was. She knelt down and broke off a piece of the bread. "Monsieur," she said, slowly offering it. The man's eyes lit up. "Merci, mademoiselle!" he said gratefully, scarfing it down. "God bless you!"  
"And you, sir," she said quietly before going back to join Jean Luc.

He luckily didn't ask what she had been doing. The two walked along for a while in silence. Then Felicity asked, "Jean Luc? Why are there so many poor people here? There seem to be more so than in a typical city."

"No money," he explained. "France has spent a tremendous amount helping America in the war, and now because of it, food prices are getting higher as well as unemployment rates. Not to mention the fact that we commoners have to pay a hundred percent of the taxes here, so tis no wonder why many are so poor."

"Even you and your family are commoners?" she asked. He nodded.

"Unless you are clergy or nobility," he said. "You pay taxes. We are just lucky enough to be able to live like nobility."

"That doesn't seem very fair," she remarked.

"It isn't," he agreed. "But it is what it is." "Has anyone tried to rebel against it?" she asked.

"Perhaps a few," he said. "But nothing serious."

"Do you think it could turn into a serious rebellion?"  
Jean Luc shrugged. "I do not know," he said. "It has been this way forever, and I believe it always shall. I think that the money issue will get better with time." She said nothing. "The part that bothers me," he went on. "Is that many are poor and are starving in the streets, as you have seen, and at the same time the king and queen and lords and ladies and dukes and duchesses get to sit in their elaborate palace, completely oblivious to their subjects."

"Do you not like the king and queen?" she asked.

"All in all, I don't think they are too bad of rulers," he said. "France has had worse, I will tell you that much. But I feel as though they are ignorant of the outside world. Honestly, I really do not think they do much for anybody. But then again, has any king or queen?"

"How long have they been in power?" she asked. Jean Luc thought a moment, then answered, "Since 1774, which was nine years ago, I think? He was only twenty when he took the throne."

"That's awfully young," she said. "No wonder he didn't know how to run the country."

"I do not think I could," he said. "Even if I were fifty. And why the interest in French government?"

"I'm just curious," she said. "In the colonies, the king of England was absolutely loathed. I was just wondering how the French felt about their king."

"Some love him, some loathe him," he said matter-of-factly. "Our family is somewhere in the middle." They were quiet for a while. Then Jean Luc pointed and said, "There is the cathedral of Notre Dame." Felicity looked up at the huge cathedral. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "That makes the grandest church in all of the colonies seem like a log cabin!"

"It is about six hundred years old," he said. She did a low whistle. "That was before anyone knew that America existed." He frowned a little. "You can whistle?" he asked.  
"Of course," she replied, whistling a more shrill one. "Can't you?"

"Yes, but I do not think it is a very becoming habit," he said. "Especially for a lady." She just rolled her eyes. "Neither is rolling your eyes," he said. "Now come. I will take you inside."

After her day in Paris, she finally got the chance to write home. It had been two months since she had left, and she was really starting to miss them. In her neatest handwriting, she wrote:_  
_

_My dearest parents and siblings,  
France is wonderful. That is all I can say. Everyone here is ever so kind; Monsieur Beaumont treats me as if I were his own daughter. And Jean Luc's aunts have made a complete pet out of me, dressing me in all sorts of finery that you do not see in the colonies. When Monsieur has a party, I never feel out of place! William, I think you would laugh if you saw me.  
The children are such a joy to teach! There are twin girls, Jeanette and Isabella. They are eleven. They have a younger brother, Christophe, who is seven. I teach them everything, from dancing and stitchery to math and history, all the while teaching them English. They are coming along quite well, if I do say so myself. I like to think that Miss Manderly would be proud of me.  
Today Jean Luc took me to Paris. It wasn't exactly what I had expected. It was smelly and dirty and poor, at least most of it was. Tis no wonder, either. Commoners have to pay a hundred percent of taxes here, which means that only nobility and clergy are exempt from it. I don't think this is a good system, but what do I know about running a country? All I know is that people typically don't like being taxed. He did take me to the cathedral of Notre Dame, which was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Tis over six hundred years old! We went inside, and this overwhelming sense of holiness comes over you immediately. I truly felt as though I were in the presence of God, more so than I ever have. The city itself is older than the hills; Williamsburg is not even an infant compared to it! Jean Luc says that Ben Franklin has been in the city for quite some time now and is wishing to return home. Tis nice to know that I'm not the only American in this foreign land. We also rode past the château de Versailles. To say that the old governor's palace in Williamsburg is the American version of it would be a big understatement.  
The Beaumonts' manor is beautiful, as well as the vineyard. I have my own room, which is even larger than our parlor, I think. Oh Nan, I wish you could see it! Jean Luc takes me on walks in the vineyard nearly every evening. And I even have a maid, who actually dresses me in the morning. Is that service or is that service?  
As for the food…the cheese is le crème de la crème. So is the wine and the bread. But they actually eat snails! I didn't realize what they were until after I ate them.  
To be frank, it is lovely here. I am treated as royalty, even though I am only the governess. The property is beautiful, and the people are charming. I think I would be content to stay here forever. I miss all of you. Give my Penny and Patriot a kiss for me, will you?  
All my love,  
Felicity._

July turned into August, and the weather was hot. The children were progressing nicely, and though she could hardly believe it, Felicity was halfway through her stay. One warm evening, she and Jean Luc strolled through the vineyard, as was their nightly routine. "I sometimes wish I could stay here forever," she said at one point. "Everything here is so wonderful."

"I am glad you like it," he said. "I was hoping you would. Is it nicer than America?"

"Tis more elegant and refined," she said. "Though I don't agree on your ways of government." Jean Luc laughed. "If the king and queen have a son," he said. "You will have to marry him. Then you will be queen and can make whatever rules you like."

"No, thank you," she said. "If they had a son this year, then I would be eighteen years older than my husband. I prefer someone who is a bit older than me."

"How old?" he asked. "Forty?"

"No," she laughed. "Not forty. More like twenty, or twenty-five at the oldest." He smiled a little bit, and she did likewise. "Don't you get any ideas, Jean Luc Beaumont," she half-teased. "This is strictly a business relationship."

"A man can dream, can he not?" he retorted with a grin.

"Dream all you like," she laughed. He just smiled and took her hand, which truthfully made her a bit uncomfortable. His soft hand caressed hers, and she couldn't help but notice that he had unusually soft and white hands for a man. Without meaning to, she thought of Ben's. His were dark from the sun and were usually callused from working. She missed his rough hand in her own. Then she pinched herself yet again (she was going to be in about five bandages by the time she got home). She would not burden herself with thoughts of Ben Davidson on this trip. She dropped Jean Luc's hand. "Don't you just love summer evenings?" she asked. "They're warm and clear, and the fireflies and crickets are out." He put his arm around her and pulled her close, which again made her slightly uncomfortable. "With you, they are even better," he murmured. "I know that I have only known you for a short time, yet I feel like I have known you forever."

"And why is that?" she asked.

"I do not know," he said. "Perhaps you just have that effect on people."  
"Perhaps," she agreed. He looked at her with a fixed gaze, and before she knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft, and as both of their eyes closed, she couldn't stop thinking, "Benjamin! Benjamin! Benjamin!" And with this thought, her mind reversed itself so that for the moment, she was at home in the stables, kissing her simple Virginian instead of in a French vineyard with a wealthy Frenchman. Her fantasy was short-lived, unfortunately. When she remembered herself, she pulled away sharply. Jean Luc looked confused. "What is wrong?" he asked. She blushed. "Nothing," she stammered. "It's-it's just not proper."

"Nobody is out here," he pointed out. "What is wrong with just a kiss?"

"Nothing," she said again. "I'm sorry, Jean Luc, I-I can't. We can't. I must go." And she hurried inside without another word.

She lay in bed that night, troubled, and feeling hypocritical. She was hurt because of Ben, yet she turned around and did the same thing he did to Jean Luc. Luckily, an argument didn't follow, but still. It made her feel bad. And speaking of Ben, why could she not for the life of her get him out of her head? Why did she love him? "He's not worth anything," her brain said. "He doesn't want you, which is just as well. Look now. You've got the perfect French gentleman here who is definitely interested in you, and if you play your cards right, you could end up with a wealthy French husband."

"You don't love him," argued her heart. "You love Ben. It doesn't matter if he doesn't have anything. That is why you can't stop thinking about him."

"Well, stop," said her brain. "Love Jean Luc instead."

"The heart loves who it loves," said her heart. "You can't just turn your love off for one man and turn it on for another."

"Jean Luc is the smarter match," said her brain.

"Ben is the real one," said her heart. Felicity closed her eyes and pinched herself extra hard, then gave up. What was the use? She obviously couldn't stop thinking about him.

The next morning during the children's history lesson, Jean Luc came in. "Am I interrupting?" he asked good-naturedly. Felicity smiled a little. "Not at all," she said. "We were just learning about Joan of Arc. Care to join us?" The children looked at him eagerly. "As tempting as that sounds," he said. "I am afraid I must steal mademoiselle for a moment."  
Felicity frowned. What did he want with her? "I'll be right back," she promised the children. She stepped out into the hall. "What is it?" she asked. He ran his hand through his hair. "Listen," he sighed. "I am sorry about last night." Her face softened. "Oh Jean," she murmured.  
"I know, I am too bold," he interrupted. "Girls I have kissed enjoy it, and then you pull away so suddenly…it caught me off guard, is all."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to."

"Then why did you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "I was just being stupid, I suppose. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"You did not," he assured her.

"Good," she said. "Now if you will excuse me, I must get back to the fifteenth century." He grinned. "Proceed, mademoiselle," he said. She just smiled and rolled her eyes.

Later that afternoon as she worked with the girls on their samplers, Jeanette said teasingly, "I think Jean Luc likes you." Felicity smiled a little. "And why is that?" she asked. The twins giggled. "He looks at you funny," said Isabella.

"And he kissed you," added Jeanette. Felicity's smile quickly turned into a frown. "How do you know about that?" she demanded. The girls tittered. "He is not a very good whisperer," said Isabella. Felicity narrowed her eyes. "Were you eavesdropping earlier?" she asked. Isabella pointed to her twin. "It was Jeanette's idea!" she accused.

"It was not either!" Jeanette protested. "You were just as curious as I was!"

"Tis very rude to eavesdrop on people's private business," scolded Felicity, surprising herself on how much she sounded like her mother. The girls paid her scolding no heed. "So," said Jeanette with an impish grin. "Do you like him?"

"I like him as a person, yes," answered Felicity.

"And as a beau?" giggled Isabella. Felicity laughed a little. "Sorry to disappoint," she said. "But no, not like that."

"He likes you like that," said Jeanette. "Well, that is his own business, isn't it?" said Felicity.

"If you married him," said Isabella. "You wouldn't have to leave."

"But then I wouldn't see my family again, now would I?" said Felicity. "The people I love."

"Do you have a beau in America?" asked Jeanette. Felicity bit her lip. "In a way," she said slowly. Both girls' eyes widened, and they grinned. "Tell us!" Felicity sighed. "Tis complicated," she said. "I don't really want to talks about it."

"Please?" they begged. "We won't tell!" She sighed again. "Fine," she agreed reluctantly. "He's not exactly my beau. I don't really know what you would call him. He is my father's apprentice. I have known him since I was nine years old. He has always been a good friend to me, though he is five and a half years my senior. And right before I came here, he kissed me and told me he loved me." The girls gasped and grinned. "What's his name?" asked Jeanette.  
"Ben Davidson," Felicity answered softly. "And do you love him?" prodded Isabella. Felicity nodded slowly, and the twins looked at each other with delight. "What does he look like?" asked Jeanette.  
"Well," said Felicity. "He's tall, he's very tall, he's got short dark hair and dark brown eyes, and he's got a very gentle smile, though he doesn't smile very much anymore."

"Why not?" asked Isabella.

"He fought in the war," Felicity explained. "It left him rather sad. He's got this awful scar under his right shoulder where he was hit with a bullet. He nearly died from it."

"He sounds brave," remarked Isabella.

"He is," Felicity agreed. Then she smiled a little. "He's got these heavy eyebrows that he always knits together when he's confused. I think his most distinct feature are his eyes. When you look into them, they've got this faraway look in them, a deep, haunted look that makes you wonder what he's thinking. They're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen." The girls grinned at this. "Will you marry him when you go home?" inquired Jeanette. Felicity's face fell. "No," she answered quietly. "I don't think that will ever happen."

"Why not? Do your parents not approve?" asked Isabella.

"They do," she said. "They love him as their own son."

"Then why?" asked Jeanette. Felicity sighed. "There are…circumstances," she said. "It's better not to think about him."

"But I thought you loved each other," said Isabella. "Shouldn't it be as simple as that?"

"I thought the same thing at first," Felicity said softly. "But love is not simple." The girls' faces were somber, but then Felicity clapped her hands and said, "Well, enough of this nonsense. Let's work on your dancing. Your father is having that party in a few weeks. It may come in handy."

Said party rolled around quickly. It was a night in mid September, a month before Felicity and Jean Luc would have to leave. That afternoon, the aunts and Adèle got her ready as well as the other young ladies who were guests of the house. She had a bath, her freckles were bleached with lemon juice, her hair was set in rollers to give it a looser, softer curl, and her elaborate ball gown and underthings were starched and pressed. Her gown was a deep ruby red, adorned with black lace on the sleeves and gold down the front. The skirt was big enough to hide Polly under, she guessed. The corset was far more restricting than she was used to. To match, a necklace with a ruby and diamond pendant was lent to her. It settled perfectly just above her low neckline. The fan was also red and black lace, as were the silk slippers. One of the other girls, Genevieve, twirled her hair up so that it piled on top of her head like all of the other fashionable ladies. She added all sorts of ornaments to it, making it nearly as heavy as a wig, and probably looking just as ridiculous. But it was the fashionable thing to do. Felicity felt ridiculous when she looked in the mirror. Too pale, too made up. Too tight of a waist, and too much of her bust exposed than she was comfortable with. Too looking like a doll. She could barely recognize herself, and she figured that everyone back home would probably laugh at her, even her mother. But all the other girls and the aunts and Adèle agreed that she looked stunning. And when they went downstairs, all of the male eyes in the room were on them. So she tried to flip her mind to that of the French and not think that she looked ridiculous, no matter how so she felt.

The party (which was more like a ball) was elaborate, as Monsieur's typically were. For a "simple party", it was nearly as grand as the Templeton's balls back home. There was all types of food and drink, and naturally, music and dancing. To Felicity, by now this was another aspect of life in France. Monsieur Beaumont held one of these at least once every two or three weeks. She was asked to dance a couple of times, mostly by Jean Luc. She always agreed. Some of the men were handsome and charming, some were not. She laughed and danced, being merry all the while, happy for the first time in a while. She didn't think of being quiet and docile. Not until it was pointed out. She had gone to get something to eat when she saw Jean Luc talking with Marie, one of the visiting girls. Ladies never eavesdrop, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she listened in to their conversation. What she heard proved the old saying true: curiosity killed the cat. The cat being her pride, not to mention her feelings. "I'm sorry you still have to put up with her for another few months," said Marie.

"Oh, she's not so bad," said Jean Luc. "But she's so awkward!" said Marie.

"Look at her. She is trying so desperately to fit in the rest of us, and she's overdoing it!"

"She has certainly dressed the part," Jean Luc pointed out.

"Only because we dressed her," she said. "Otherwise, she has no style at all! She had planned to wear a simple dark green gown with only a bit of lace on it tonight, and she planned to just put her hair up in a bun!"

"She did dress rather plainly when she first came here," he agreed.

"She is too modest," she said. "In her clothes, at least. She was uncomfortable with the low neckline on her gown; as if she had anything to show!"

"That's true," he agreed. "And that is the one thing a man notices about a woman."

"And that is as it should be," said Marie. "Everyone knows that a lady is quiet and keeps her views to herself. She is supposed to just look appealing. But apparently, your American has got it backwards."

"How so?" he asked.

"She has no problem putting her two cents in mens' debates," she said. "She thinks that they will actually listen to her. As if she were one of their friends. Yet she worries over being over-exposed in revealing clothes. Why does she think we wear them? A man notices a woman by her body, not by her insights on politics or whatever."

"So you don't think she knows her place?" asked Jean Luc.

"She speaks her mind too much," said Marie. "She tries to fit in with the rest of us too much. She should know to keep quiet and speak when appropriate. Yet as much as she tries to join men's conversations, she has no idea how to flirt!"

"I know," agreed Jean Luc. "I kissed her a couple of weeks ago, and she pulled away very suddenly, saying that it was 'not proper'. And we were completely alone, too."

"You see?" she said. "She is too modest in the wrong ways. Tis really too bad. She is a pretty girl. She just doesn't know how to work it to her advantage. Her hair, for example. It's long and curly and a nice auburn, though blonde would be better. Yet she doesn't know how to manage it. She wears it up in a bun every day and does nothing fancy or stylish to it."

"She did tonight," he pointed out.

"We did that," said Marie. "And she thought it was too heavy. A woman's hair as well as her clothes and manners define her place in society."

"She has good manners," he said.

"Yes," she agreed. "And she does have a gentle, quiet way of pointing out her opinions. But she shouldn't let them out, period. And as for her clothes and hair…"

"They do say that a woman's hair is her crowing glory," he said.

"And hers could be," she said. "If she put more effort into it. A woman is nothing without good hair. That is just how society is."

"Besides," he said. "A woman's hair is another thing a man notices."

"Exactly," she agreed. "If a woman can't style it the right way, she takes all the fun out of it for the man later on that night. He can't let it down and run his hands through it and cover her with it. And if it is too plain in the first place, then no one will take much notice of her. And then no one will lie with her."

"Well-to-do women are good for one thing," he said. "And if she doesn't have a good body, then she can't do it."

"Precisely," agreed Marie. "And that is the way it should be."  
Felicity felt her face grow hot. The French certainly were…blunt. And again with the whole cattiness and society! It was even worse than in Williamsburg. In Williamsburg, women weren't seen only as objects of sexual appeal. Was that all they were here? Only good for intercourse? Perhaps the wealthy French were not as classy and refined as they had once seemed. And if modesty was wrong here, then she didn't want to be right.  
"I just don't think that she belongs in this kind of society," continued Marie. "I suppose it is that 'American charm'."

"She does come from a respectable family," said Jean Luc. "At least by American standards."

"Just the same," she said. "I would not get too close to her. You deserve a lady, Jean. One who would honor and serve you, not try to have a serious discussion with you. If you stay here with me, you would have one."

"What makes you think I'm not coming back?" he asked.

"Well," she answered. "You have been defending her, and you did say that you kissed her."

"That means nothing," he said softly. "I was just feeling her out, to see if she had any potential."

"Does she?" asked Marie.

"What do you think?"

"No?"

"That is correct." He then leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back, and from what Felicity could see, they seemed to be getting pretty into it. In her humble opinion, they looked disgusting as his hands felt Marie up and down. Felicity cringed. She really hoped that she and Ben hadn't looked that ridiculous. When Jean Luc pulled away, she heard him whisper, "I will return as soon as I can, Marie, for you if nothing else." And they kissed again. Tears stung Felicity's eyes. She wiped them away. Why was she crying? Out of anger and hurt. How could they say such things about her? Especially Jean Luc, who she thought was her friend? Apparently here, you weren't friends with members of the opposite sex. You were their sexual partner for the night. And not having a discussion with a man? What had Marie just done? A flirtation? People here had no shame, at least not for the right reasons. She looked around her, and seeing that no one was watching, slipped out of the ballroom, then once up the stairs, broke into a run down the hall to her bedchamber.

Tears spilling over, she slammed the door and locked it. Adèle had already laid out her nightgown on the bed. Felicity tore off the suffocating gown and underthings and jewelry and slipped into her familiar, loving nightgown. That felt better. She took out the ornaments in her hair and shook it loose. The now mussed curls tumbled down her back. She started to comb them and bind them in a braid. She had just started when she looked at herself in the mirror and paused. Her face was red, and her eyes were wild. She closed them, then opened them again. They seemed calmer. She thought again of the gossip between Marie and Jean Luc. She thought again of all of the rules of society. How one's clothes and hair were so important. If your clothes weren't right, you were shunned. If your hair wasn't right, you were shunned. If you didn't have nice hair or a nice bust, you wouldn't attract a man, you wouldn't lie with him, and you were shunned. At least here. She hated how women were viewed as nothing but sexual toys. They were to hold a man's interest for the evening, a week or two if she were lucky, before he moved on to the next one. She had no voice. Men laughed at her opinion, and women shook their heads at it. She then studied her hair. "A woman is nothing without good hair," Marie had said. "That is just how society is." Felicity, at that point, had had enough of society, at least that of the French. In a fit of defiance, she dug for the pocketknife Ben had slipped her before she left (and when they were still speaking) he had said to use to protect herself, just in case. She had laughed at him at the time. Now, however, it may come in handy. She undid the half started braid and shook out her hair. She looked at it and sighed. It _did_ look pretty. But she was trying to make a point here. Before she could change her mind, she opened the blade, closed her eyes, and in one fluid motion, made a straight, clean cut across her hair. She let out a small gasp the second the blade sliced through the last strand and the hair fell to the floor. She cracked her eyes open, then opened them all the way. Where it had once reached halfway down her back, her hair now just brushed past her shoulders. Slightly stunned by what she had just done, she fingered it gingerly. She pulled it back in a ponytail and examined it. It still worked. She twisted it into a bun. It was a bit more stubborn, but it still worked. She let it down and studied it. It was shorter than most girls' hair, but it was still long enough to work with without looking masculine. She smiled a little. It felt much lighter and more freeing. And she hadn't done too badly of a job cutting it, either. She got rid of the cut off hair, braided her remaining hair (which was a shorter and stiffer braid, but it too still worked), then crawled into bed, satisfied with her handiwork.

She couldn't rest, though. Not because of regret of cutting her hair (if anything, she regretted not doing that years ago). She was finally beginning to have her first real bout of homesickness. It was late, around three in the morning (and the party was still going on!) She didn't know why she felt sad; maybe it was because of that conversation that night. She felt as though Jean Luc had betrayed her, and he had. She had never liked him in a romantic way, but now that she knew that he thought she was trying too hard and especially that she had no 'potential', she felt abandoned. Her only companion had betrayed her. Yes, now she had the children and Monsieur and even Adèle, who had become a good friend, but on the ship for a whole month? She couldn't exactly avoid him. She now longed for her father's store, its familiar smell of soap, linens, spices, and leather. She missed the warm kitchen, the scent of Rose's baked goods filling the whole house. She missed her mother's gentle chastising, the cozy parlor with its warm and inviting fire, William and Polly's bickering, and Nan taking all the covers at night. She missed the stable with its familiar, comforting scent of horses. She missed the warmth of Penny's nose and Patriot's mouth it engulfed the apple that had been in her hand. She missed Elizabeth and their gossips. Most of all, she missed Ben. As she lay in bed, she longed to be held in his arms. She longed for his kiss. His hand holding hers. His warm touch. His gentle smile that could light up a room. Right now, she wanted more than anything for him to be next to her. And the part that made her long for him the most was the fact that she couldn't have him. And hard as she tried, she could not get him out of her mind. "Benjamin," her heart kept crying. "Benjamin. Benjamin." As she thought this, she frowned and sat up. She could have sworn she heard his voice. Then she shook her head and lay back down. She was losing her mind. Wait-there it was again! She sat up. "Felicity," she could distinctly hear his voice call. "Felicity. I love you."  
"Ben?" she whispered. "Benjamin?" She got out of bed and slipped to the window. "Benjamin?" But the night was silent. She shook her head again and crawled back into bed. What was she thinking? Ben wasn't here; he was in Williamsburg. She really must be going crazy if she was hearing his voice. She lay back down and closed her eyes. "Benjamin," she whispered. "Benjamin. Benjamin. I love you."

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, another troubled soul lay in his bed, unable to sleep. Ben Davidson looked up at the ceiling and sighed. It was a chilly September night, which made his stable loft cold as well. He pulled the extra blanket around himself and rolled over to his side. He had felt bad about what he had said to Felicity ever since the words had flown out of his mouth. And he couldn't even apologize because there was now an ocean between them. He wondered if he would ever see her again. He wouldn't blame her if she wanted to stay in France with Jean Luc. He wasn't lying when he said that he loved her more than Diana and all of the other girls he had liked put together. He felt a deeper, more soulful connection to her than he had with anyone else in his life, even Diana. Deeper and stronger than he had ever thought he would get. He closed his eyes. He wanted her home, to be able to hold her and kiss her and love her. He wished she were next to him now, to touch her cheek, her hand. To hear her laugh, to see her smile. And because of his own stupidness, he had lost her forever. It was then that he could have sworn he heard her voice. He sat up. There it was again! "Benjamin," he heard her voice call. "Benjamin. Benjamin. I love you." He frowned and went to the door. "Lissie?" he called softly. "Felicity?" But the night was silent. He shook his head and went back to bed. She was thousands of miles away! He was imagining things. He rolled over and pulled the covers up to his chin. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. "Felicity," he whispered. "Felicity. Felicity. I love you."


	17. Chapter 17

**So sorry I took forever to update! School started back up a couple weeks ago; enough said. And now there's homecoming to deal with, and homework, and all of the other joys of school. :/ Anyway, keep reviewing, please!**

_Chapter 16_

Three weeks later drew Felicity's stay to a close. Jean Luc had nearly had a heart attack when he saw her hair, but she didn't care. She had made her point. Now that that was behind, it was the day they left for America. Goodbyes are always bittersweet, and Felicity hated to say goodbye to the kind aunts, Adèle, Monsieur Beaumont, and the children. "Don't go!" begged little Christophe, clinging to her skirts, which reminded her of Polly. "S'il vous plaît, mademoiselle?"

"I'm sorry, dear," she said with a sad smile. "But I must get back to my own family." Both of the twins hugged her. "We will miss you," said Jeanette.

"We love you," added Isabella. Felicity kissed the top of their heads. "I love and will miss you too," she said. "And keep working on your English; I expect letters."

"Oui," they agreed. Then Jeanette grinned and tugged at her elbow.

"When you get home," she whispered. "The first thing you should do is find this Mr. Davidson and give him a big kiss hello." Felicity laughed.

"Don't get your hopes up, _ma petit_," she said. Then Monsieur Beaumont kissed both of her cheeks, as the French do. "Good luck, chèrie," he said. "You are always welcome here."

"Merci, Monsieur," she said. "And thank you a thousand times for everything."

"You are more than welcome," he said kindly. All to soon, the inevitable moment came. All of the trunks were packed, and the carriage was ready. Felicity bid them all a bittersweet _au revoir_ and followed Jean Luc out the door.

It was raining when the ship left the harbor a few days later. Felicity felt sorry to be leaving France, but after five months, she was ready to see her family again. It was a closed chapter now. She closed her eyes. She, Felicity Merriman, had really been to Europe. "Au revoir, France," she thought. "And thank you."

The ship was as dull as dull could be, especially with only Jean Luc to talk to. And she wasn't too terribly happy with him. They were about halfway there when she finally found some entertainment. His name was James Deangelis. Somehow, he and Felicity continuously seemed to literally bump into each other, so finally they figured they had better sit down and talk before they had an accident. He was an American man and a third class passenger, which meant that he and Felicity shouldn't have been seen within a hundred feet of each other, but what Jean Luc didn't know wouldn't hurt him. They struck up conversation easily, and over the next few days Felicity had explained that she was from Williamsburg and had been in France as a governess for a wealthy family, which led her to explain how they were her best friend's inlaws. James said that he had been in France with his aunt and uncle since he was eleven and his parents passed away. He was twenty years old, and for nine years had been neglected and pushed off to the side by his wealthier relatives who thought of him as nothing as a nuisance. He said he had been saving his money since he was thirteen and worked for a printer for a while. "And so," he said. "I worked at it for a good seven years, finally made the money for a third class ticket, and now am on my way home after so many years."

"Why didn't you just stay in France?" she asked.

"Think about it," he said with a grin. "I wasn't wanted, and even after I could get a place of my own. And would you rather live in a country ruled by a king or one without?"

"All right, I see your point," she said. "You're lucky, though. You were away during the whole war."

"I had my own problems to worry about," he said. "But I suppose being neglected in a nice house is better than starving in a destroyed one, isn't it?" Felicity smiled. Finally, someone understood! "It was horrifying towards the end," she said. "There was a siege in Williamsburg. We lived in our cellar. No fresh food, no clean clothes. And that was for civilians!"

"Could you imagine being a soldier?" he asked. "Imagine, those conditions a hundred times worse!"

"I can imagine," she said softly. "I knew people who fought, one who I was particularly concerned about."

"Who?" asked James, then he grinned. "Your lover? Fiancé? Husband?"

"Very funny," she snorted. "No, he was not my lover, nor my fiancé, nor my husband. He was my father's apprentice." James frowned. "But I thought apprentices couldn't join the militia," he said. "How-"

"Tis a long, dull story," she interrupted. "My father let him, which I wasn't too pleased about. I was very close to him. He was always a good friend."

"Did he come home?" he asked.

"He did," she replied. "Alive with all of his limbs intact, though his soul wasn't."

"I guess war will to that to you," said James. "I would have fought, had I been there."

"You still could have," she pointed out. "The French helped us win."

"They were some of the best sailors in the world," he explained. "I had not so much as rowed a little boat in a river, nor had I any military experience. And my aunt and uncle didn't want to pay for me to get it. In France, it isn't like it is in America where anyone can join, even a fourteen-year-old who has never even shot a deer in his life, much less a man." She just nodded understandingly. Then she asked, "Where are you from? Originally, I mean?"

"Baltimore," he said. "When my parents died, I was sent to Portsmouth to live with my grandmother, who was the kindest lady in the world. Then when she knew she didn't have much longer to live, she took all the money she had and sent me abroad to France to live with my aunt and uncle. And I haven't been back since."

"Well, I'm sorry about your grandmother," she said. "And about how you had to put up with that aunt and uncle." James just shrugged. "Builds character," he said. "Besides, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." She just nodded. Then he asked, "So what about you? What's your life's story?" She smiled a little. "I don't think there's much to tell," she said. "I was born and raised in Williamsburg. My father owns a general store, and my mother is a gentlewoman. I've got three younger siblings ranging in ages from seven to fifteen. I am eighteen years old and not married. For half of my life, I have seen war, and two years ago I came far too close to it for comfort. I have spent four months in France as a governess and am now returning home. And that's about it."

"All right, you've summed it up well," he said. "Care to elaborate with details?"

"Not particularly," she said. "I told you about the war, and the only other exciting thing that has happened in my life is this trip."

"So how was that?" he asked. "I know how you got there, with your friend's inlaws and all, but how was the trip itself?"

"It was…interesting," she said.

"Interesting as in, 'it was the best four months of my life'," he asked. "Or interesting as in, 'it was utterly horrible and this ship can't get to America fast enough'?"

"A little bit of both," she said with a smile. "The children were a joy, and they lived in this grand old mansion. The family owned a vineyard. I had my own maid and everything, and I was just the governess! There were grand parties with food and dancing, but the rules, oh God! the rules! Society is bad enough in America. Tis ten times worse in France! I was frowned upon for merely stating my opinion, and dressing too plainly, and doing my hair too plainly, and for not having a huge bust, and-" she paused and blushed a little. "I've said too much," she said.

"No," he assured her. "I believe you. And isn't it like that in America?"

"Only the opinion part," she said. "I noticed that in France, women-at least wealthy ones-are only looked at as sexual objects. For example, if a woman doesn't have a huge bust spilling out of her gown, then nobody thinks that she will amount to much." She blushed again. "Again, I've said too much."

"You haven't," he said. "I like hearing your insights on the problems with today's society."

"I thought it was bad in Williamsburg until I came to France," she went on. "Women don't have many rights in America, but at least one can lead a happy life on her own without being a sexual toy."

"It wasn't like that for most people," he said. "For the ordinary, people married each other and stayed faithful to each other, even if they weren't the best-looking people in the world or had this desirable trait or whatever."

"That's how it is back home," she said. "Even for the wealthy. You know, as classy and refined as they seem, the French certainly are quite the opposite, aren't they?"

"The rich folks are, at least," he agreed, leaning against the railing. "So if you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?"

"Everyone would be equal," she said immediately. "Men and women, black and white. We would all be on equal footing." She sighed. "In the Declaration of Independence, Mr. Jefferson writes that 'all men are created equal'," she continued. "What he really means is, 'all white men who own property, vote, and have money are created equal'. Not black men, not poor men, and especially not women." She then smiled a little. "I don't know why I just vented all of that to you," she said. "I don't know you, you don't know me, and I don't know why we are even talking! We shouldn't be seen within a hundred feet of each other."

"We are both people," he reasoned. "You just so happen to have a higher class ticket than I do. And while I don't know Felicity Merriman's birthday or favorite color, I do know that she despises how in upper class France women are seen only as objects of sexual appeal. I know that she believes that women can do anything that men can do, and that she thinks that everyone is equal to everyone else, regardless of race, gender, wealth, or age. Oh, and you mentioned that you liked horses." Felicity was quiet. Then she said, "Fine, but I hardly know anything about you, Mr. Deangelis."

"James," he corrected. "And I've told you my life story."

"I know," she said. "But I know nothing on how you stand on politics or anything I just mentioned."

"Well, if we are talking about women," he said. "Then yes, I think I'd have to agree with you. But to give women more rights, I think they would have to be more educated than just in the domestic arts."

"But schools don't take girls," she said. "At least not universities."

"And they should," he said. "And think of it; women fight with words, not guns. If a women ruled the nations, think of all the wars we would save! They would just argue the issue out amongst themselves." Felicity laughed. "That's actually a very good point," she said.

"Maybe someday," he said. "Maybe women will have the same rights as men."

"That will happen the same day women wear trousers and men wear earrings," she said. "A someday…" her voice trailed off, then she closed her eyes. "That may never come." James laughed. "Never know," he said. It was then that Jean Luc came out. "Felicity, what are you doing out here?" he asked. "And with this…man?" He said "man" as if he were talking about a disgusting insect. "Oh, this is James Deangelis," she said casually. "We've just been striking up conversation for the past couple of days. James, this is Jean Luc Beaumont. He has been my travel companion." James stuck his hand out politely. "How do you do, sir?" he asked pleasantly. Jean Luc looked at his hand as though it were belonging to some hideous animal. He shook it lightly. "Quite well, thank you," he said coolly. He then looked at Felicity. "You should get inside. It looks like a storm is brewing." Felicity looked out at the blue, cloudless sky. "No, it doesn't," she said.

"_Now_," he hissed. She frowned at him, but didn't protest. "Fine," she agreed reluctantly. She turned back to James and smiled. "Well, Mr. Deangelis. I am afraid we must say adieu. I certainly hope our paths cross again."

"I do too, Miss Merriman," he said, kissing her hand. He then grinned. "I saw all the gentlemen to that to the ladies, and I've wanted to try it ever since," he whispered. She grinned back, then reluctantly followed Jean Luc back inside.

"I don't want you talking to that man," said Jean Luc once inside the cabin. Felicity frowned and sat in the seat opposite him. "Why not?" she asked. "He seemed nice."

"Perhaps," said Jean Luc. "But he is still a third class passenger."

"So what?" she asked. "He is a person too."

"But you are a lady!" he said. "You should not be associating with those kind of people, especially a man!"

"I am associating with you, aren't I?" she asked. "And you _are_ a man, last I checked."

"That's different," he said. "I am your guardian on this trip. Besides, I am a gentleman. He is not."

"Now aren't we getting full of ourselves," she said hotly. "And you are not my guardian, Jean Luc Beaumont! My parents are my guardians. You are my travel companion."

"I am in charge of you," he said. "At least until we get back." She stood up angrily. "You are not in charge of me!" she exclaimed. "Nobody is, except my parents! Even when I get married, my husband will not be in charge of me! I am my own person, and I can look out for myself. Which means that I will talk to whoever I please."

"You are a lady," he said again. "You need protection. Those kind of people have no manners; they are too rough."

"You don't seem to think I am a lady," she said. "You criticize me for having an opinion and for dressing too plainly and for not doing my hair the right way and for…other things. When you kissed me, you didn't really like me; you were just feeling me out to see if I had any 'potential'." His face went red. "How-how did you know about that?" he asked.

"I heard what you and Marie were talking about that one night," she said. He smacked his forehead. "Oh Felicity, I am sorry, truly I am! You were not supposed to hear that," he said.

"Well, I did," she said. "And for your information, women are good for so much more than just _that_. Often times, we are smarter than men!" He just shook his head. "I am sorry," he said again. "I do not know what l was thinking. You are a lady, and you deserve a gentleman."

"Like who?" she asked. "Not you; you just view women as a source of physical attraction, not actual people. Besides, you have your Marie."

"Marie?" he asked.

"Yes, Marie," she answered. "Don't play dumb, I saw you kiss her. You said that you would come back to France, for her if nothing else."

"I did not mean it!" he said. "I was just feeling her out to see if she had any potential!" Felicity laughed unkindly. "That's exactly what you said to her about me!" she said. "And you said that I didn't have any."

"I did not mean it!" he said again. "If anything, _she_ does not!" She laughed again. "You're worse than I thought!" she said. "My goodness, Jean Luc, how two-timing can you be?"

"I am not being two-timing!" he argued. "Please, Felicity, I did not mean what I said. Come back with me, and I'll show you." This caught her off guard. "What?" she asked.

"Come back with me," he repeated. "When I go back."

"Jean Luc," she said. "I am going back to my family, who I have not seen in six months. I never want to be so far away from them again. France was lovely, really it was, but I don't need to go back. Why do you want me to?"

"Because I want you to be with a better class of people," he said. "In the past few months, I have developed a sense of protection over you. I think it would be better for you to associate with a higher class of people than you would in America, even for just a little bit longer."

"And why is that?" she asked.

"Because it would teach you proper etiquette," he said.

"I have proper etiquette, thank you very much," she snapped.

"Of course," he said. "But I do not just mean your manners. I mean other things like how you dress and how you state your opinion too much. You need to learn your place, and I think that some more time in France will help you."

"I didn't come to France to improve my social skills," she said. "I came to teach your siblings."

"Honestly, Felicity," he said. "I am only trying to help you. That way, you will not have to deal with people talking behind your back."

"Tis rude to talk behind one's back anyway," she said. "Besides, I am entitled to my opinion, and I shall speak it if I so wish. And I shall dress as I wish, and fix my hair as I wish. I am not hurting anybody by being myself."

"No," he agreed. "But you know, if you do not act a certain way, you will embarrass yourself as well as your family. The same goes for your marriage choice. I think if you came back to France, you would have better marriage prospects than in America."

"Americans are not just a bunch of lazy farmers, you know," she said hotly. "And why do you care about my marriage prospects? Tis not as if you have an interest in me regarding that area."

"No," he admitted. "But I just worry about you, is all."

"About what?" she asked.

"That you will bring shame to yourself and your family," he said."Especially if you do not marry right." Now she was really angry. "I shall not bring shame to myself nor my family!" she shouted. "Yes, I sometimes say too much. Yes, I do not always act like a lady should. And yes, I do take too much of an interest in topics that are none of my business. But I can dance, I am polite and courteous, and I can dress myself elegantly without looking like a…well, never mind. And I will not marry some sleazy old Frenchman who only wants me for the way I look, no matter how much money he has. I am a person, and though I am a woman, I can make my own choices."

"Felicity, please," he said. "I am only trying to help you."

"I appreciate that," she said. "But I don't need help. I am an American girl, and I shall marry an American boy that I love, even if he is poorer than dirt. And I shall attend American parties, where yes, there is cattiness and gossip, but there isn't the mindset that women are supposed to be there only to satisfy men's lusts. And that is the one thing I really noticed and disliked about you French. You look at women as nothing but sexual objects, not actual people." He just sighed, exasperated. "Now," she said, standing up. "If we are done with this conversation, I am going back out on the deck for some fresh air." And she left without another word.

A few days later, when they were about a week out from Virginia, Felicity ran into James again. He smiled when he saw her. "Hello again, Miss Merriman," he said. "I haven't seen you in a few days."

"Jean Luc hasn't let me out of his sight," she sighed, leaning against the railing and looking out at the horizon. James frowned. "That seems a bit protective," he remarked.

"He _is_ protective," she agreed. "And I'm not sure why. He wanted me to go back with him to France…after he's done in the colonies." James frowned. "Why?" he asked. "You're just now coming home for good."

"That's what I said," she said. "He doesn't think I'm ladylike enough and wants to enhance my etiquette by having me spend more time in France. He says I'll shame myself and my family if I don't."

"You will not shame yourself or your family," he said firmly. "I think you have very good etiquette."

"He thinks my fashion sense is too plain," she said. "And that I speak my mind too much, at least for a woman. He also said that my marriage prospects would be better if I stayed in France rather than in America. He said that I will bring even more shame if I don't marry right."

"And what's his definition of 'right'?" he asked. "Not him, surely?"

"No," she said. "I don't know, I think it's sweet that he worries, but I don't think it's any of his business."

"He could be smitten with you," he suggested. "And wants to keep you for himself."

"Me and all of his other girls," she scoffed. "No, and even if he does, I know tis no more than a physical attraction. I just liked him as a friend, though now I am having doubts about even that, what with he said about me!"

"What did he say?" he asked. Felicity sighed and launched into the whole incident with Marie, which I will spare you for the sake of time and interest. When she finished, he looked appalled. "Well," he said finally."Those Frogs can certainly be…"

"Rude?" she finished. "Catty? No virtues? Sneaky? Betraying?"

"I was going to say frank," he said. "But those work too." Then he sighed. "Well, you, Miss Felicity, dress very nicely, and speak very nicely, and have very nice morals. You do not need to appeal to men like that. You should be loved for who you are, not for the way you look."

"I think that should be the case for everyone," she said. "Everyone needs someone." He just nodded. She looked out at the horizon, then let out a low whistle. "Look at that sunset!" she remarked. "Isn't it lovely?" James frowned. "Where did you learn to whistle?" he asked.

"My father's apprentice taught me," she said. "Long ago."

"Ah, the soldier," he said. She nodded. "The brave soldier," she said softly. "My strong, brave soldier." She sighed. "I prayed every day he was gone that he would come home safely." James cast her a sideways glance. "You two were pretty close," he assumed.

"He was the older brother I never had," she agreed.

"And now?" he asked. "Do you still see him as such?" She shook her head.

"Not as a brother," she said. "We aren't…" she closed her eyes. "We aren't boy and girl anymore. We are man and woman now. And as man and woman, things are much more complicated than they used to be."

"What's his name?" asked James, propping himself up against the railing. She again looked out at the horizon. "Ben," she answered softly. "Ben Davidson." She then smiled a little. "He's twenty-three - no, twenty-four now! He's always been quiet and reserved, yet he's seems to be pretty observant, which is more than I can say about him when he was a teenager! He's tall, and he's got dark hair, and these beautiful dark brown eyes that can just pierce right through you. And the rare occasions when he smiles, oh God! his smile! It can light up a whole room."

"Do you love him?" James asked bluntly. This threw her off guard a bit.

"What?" she asked, whipping towards him.

"Do you love him?" he repeated. Felicity frowned. "That's a bit personal, don't you think?" she asked coolly.

"Well, it's a simple question," he said. "And you just went on and on about how perfectly wonderful he is."

"Still," she snapped. "That is none of your business."

"You just told me all about him," he pointed out. "I'd say that yes, now it is my business."

"Why must you know?" she asked. "You are being most rude!" James grinned. "I'm not being rude," he protested. "I'm just asking. Do you love the man or not?" Felicity bit her lip. Finally, she said, "Fine! Yes, I do." He looked at her as if to say, "And…?"

"And…" she said.

"And…?" he asked, motioning for her to go on. "Have you told him so?"

"Yes," she said. "And before you ask, he told me he loved me before I said it. But it doesn't matter." James laughed a little. "If a man and a woman love each other," he said. "I think it usually matters at least a little bit."

"We have an…interesting relationship," she said. "There are complications."

"Your parents don't approve?" he guessed. She shook her head. "Not exactly," she said. "You see, it all happened right before I left for France…"

Within the next five minutes, she explained everything to him. _Everything._ From the moment they met nine long years ago right down to Ben's exact words before she left. James listened patiently throughout her whole tirade. When she was finished, she sighed. "I don't know why I just told you all of that," she said. "I've probably just talked your ear off."

"I asked," he replied with a shrug.

"Still," she said. "I don't know you, you don't know me, and honestly, I don't know why I'm talking to you!"

"We've been talking for the past two weeks," he pointed out. "I haven't known you for nine years, but I've known you long enough to call you a friend."

"But we shouldn't be!" she said. "I'm in first class, and you're, well, you're-"

"Poor?" he finished. "It's all right, you can say it." She looked away. "But we're not a different species," he continued. "Yes, we belong to different classes of society. That doesn't mean we shouldn't be able to talk, though."

"Jean Luc doesn't want me talking to you," she said quietly. James snorted. "And I suppose he doesn't want you with your apprentice either," he said. "Who, and I don't mean this against him, I am sure is not rolling in money. Jean Luc can't control you, Felicity. Nobody can but you. And do you really care what he thinks?" She paused, then admitted, "No, I don't."

"Exactly," he said. "And so you are free to talk to whoever you darn well please, and you are free to love whoever you darn well please, even if that love is the most stubborn man on earth. Who, I think, is not being stubborn as much as he is timid."

"How do you figure?" she asked.

"From what you said," he said. "He's been hurt before, and he doesn't want it to happen again. Deep down, I think he does know that you love him, yet his practical side is thinking that he is being naïve. Even though both you and he know that he's not."

"What do you think will convince him?" she asked.

"It's hard to say," he said. "I think he was afraid of losing you when you went to France, especially with a handsome Frenchman involved who seemed to take a slight interest in you. Which is why he was trying to convince himself that you would move on and never come back so to save himself heartache if it really happened."

"I think he knows I wouldn't," she said. "He knows me well enough."

"To be frank," he said. "I think he thought it was too good to be true and didn't want to get his hopes up. That's all."

"Well, if he had just said it like that," she said. "I think these past six months would have been a lot simpler."

"Not necessarily," he said. "It would have just saved you about twenty minutes of a long, unnecessary conversation." She was quiet a second. Then she said, "Well, I've come back from France without a lover, betrothed, or husband. Do you think he will change his mind?"

"He could," he said. "Or he couldn't. If I were you, I'd approach him gently. Give him some time. If he brings it back up, tell him very gently that you love him and never let go of that. Then see how he reacts." She smiled a little. "And how exactly are you such an expert on these things?" she asked. He shrugged. "I've been in the same position," he said. "Except with a woman, naturally. Besides, I'm a man too. I know how a man's mind works."

"Well, thank you," she said. "I feel slightly better."

"You're welcome," he said. "You shouldn't have to be miserable." Then he looked out at the darkening horizon. "It looks like a storm is brewing," he said. "We should get inside." She nodded. "Goodbye," she said.

"Goodbye," he said. "And Felicity?"

"Yes?"

"Don't listen to a word that Frog says."

A week later, the ship docked in Williamsburg. Felicity was able to bid James a final farewell before they left the boat. She was sad that she would never see him again. He had been a good friend and source of advice.

Her legs felt wobbly to be on land again, but she couldn't have been happier about what land it was. "Home!" she thought happily to herself. "Home!" Williamsburg had never looked more familiar and welcoming. It was dusk when they got there, and therefore chilly being that it was November, but she didn't care. When they reached the Merriman house, her heart leapt. "Home," she sighed contently.

"I take it you are glad to be back," remarked Jean Luc. She nodded. "It looks so welcoming," she said.

"I will take care of the trunks," he said. "You go say hello."

"Thank you," she said, stepping out of the carriage and up to the front door. She paused before going in and looked up at the friendly white clapboard. "Here goes nothing," she thought. She opened the door and quietly stepped inside. "Hello?" she asked softly. "Is anybody home?" She heard someone come down the stairs. "Really, Edward," she heard her mother say. "Would it kill you to close the door when you come in? You're letting in the draft." Then she came down all the way. When she saw that it was her daughter and not her husband, a smile lit up her face. "Lissie!" she exclaimed, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek. "Oh darling, you're home!" Felicity laughed and hugged her mother. "We just got home," she said. "Jean Luc is taking care of the trunks." Mrs. Merriman held her at arm's length. "Well, dear, let me look at you," she said. Felicity stood up straight. Her mother smiled again. "Don't you look lovely!" she said. "That is a beautiful dress!"

"They let me take one home," said Felicity, holding out her skirts. "Believe it or not, this was the simplest one."

"I imagine," Mother agreed. Then she frowned. "What on earth did you do to your hair?" Felicity fingered it nervously. "Cut it," she replied.

"That much is obvious," said Mrs. Merriman, turning her around. "Well, we can't do anything about it, can we? At least it's still manageable. Why, though?"

"Tis a long story," said Felicity.

"Well," said Mother. "Tell me later. Right now, come in, darling, come in! I am dying to know how the trip was!" She led her into the parlor, where Nan was mending. She looked up and smiled when she saw her sister. "Lissie!" she exclaimed, jumping up and hugging her. "You're home!"

"Hello, Nan," said Felicity with a laugh. "Yes, I'm home."

"When did you get here?" Nan asked.

"Just a couple of minutes ago," said Felicity. "Oh Nan, how are you?"

"I think the question," said Nan, stepping back. "Is how are _you_? You just got back from France, for goodness sake!"

"It was wonderful," said Felicity, sinking down into the sofa. "Completely wonderful." It was then that Polly came in, dragging William and her father with her. "See?" she said. "I told you I heard her come in! I told you Lissie was home!" Felicity stood up to greet the rest of her family, but had barely done so before Polly had wrapped herself around her waist. "Hello to you too, Polly," she laughed, picking up the little girl and resting her on her hip. "I do believe you've grown!"

"Mother says I will be eight next month," said Polly proudly.

"I know you will," said Felicity. "And now, our sweet William is twelve!" "Sweet William" blushed a little. "It's good to have you back," he said simply.

"William," said his mother. "Your sister just got back from France. I think you can do a bit better." William sighed and gave his oldest sister a quick hug. Felicity grinned and ruffled his hair. "I know," she said. "You're too old to hug." He just smiled a bit bashfully. She then put Polly down and hugged her father hello. "Ah, Lissie," he said with a smile. "You better not want to go so far away again because you are _not_ going, you understand? We've missed you too much!"

"I've missed you too," she said. "Six months is too long to be away from home." Mr. Merriman studied her with a loving eye. "My," he remarked. "I think you left a girl and came back a woman. You look lovely, my dear."

"Your dress is beautiful, Felicity!" said Nan.

"It _is_ French," said Felicity. "And believe it or not, this was the simplest one I wore. Personally, I think everything else looked ridiculous."

"You couldn't look ridiculous in a sack," said her mother kindly. Then Nan exclaimed, "Good gracious, Felicity, your hair! Your lovely hair! What on earth did you do to it?" Felicity touched it self-consciously. "Cut it," she answered.

"Why?" asked Polly. Felicity sighed. "Tis a long story," she said. "One of which I will explain later."

"Where is Jean Luc?" asked Father.

"He's getting the trunks," said Felicity. "He will be in in a moment." Jean Luc was staying the night as well, as a sort of thank you. "Well, supper will be ready soon," said Mother. "And I expect to hear all about your trip then."

"Absolutely," Felicity agreed. "Now if you'll excuse me, where is Ben?" Nan caught her eye and gave a small smile. "I think he is in the stable," said Father. "Why?"

"I'd like to speak to him," she said.

"Good luck," said William. "He's been oddly quiet ever since you left."

"Funny, isn't it, Lissie?" asked Nan slyly. Felicity shot her a glare.

The night air was cold, but she barely noticed. Her heart was pounding uncontrollably, it seemed. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? Would he completely ignore her? Would he be angry? "Approach him gently," James had said. "Don't tell him you love him unless he brings it up." She tried to take his words to heart. She reached the stable. When she opened the door, the first thing she saw was Ben. He was giving Penny her oats, and his back was turned. She smiled a little. After six months of longing for him, here he was, just feet away! "Don't get sentimental," she scolded herself. She took a deep breath. "Hello, Ben," she said softly. He turned around, his eyes startled. "I'm home," she said, walking over to him. A gentle but wonderful smile lit up his face. "Father said you were out here-" she started to say.

"Shh," he interrupted, and the next thing she knew, he was hugging her tightly. Her eyes widened in surprise, then closed. "Forgive me," he whispered. "Please." She lay her cheek against his. "I forgave you long before you asked," she whispered back. She felt his lips against her cheek, and a calm overcame her. "Shh, shh," that gentle kiss said. "Everything is all right, darling, everything is all right." She took comfort in his familiar scent of pine and cinnamon. How that was possible, she didn't know, but it was very _Ben_. The stable was cold, but she barely noticed. The warmth of his body filled her with a peaceful warmth inside as well as out. Their serenity was short-lived, however. "So that is why," came a voice from behind them. Felicity's eyes opened, and she and Ben quickly let go of each other. Standing in the doorway was Jean Luc, arms crossed across his chest. Felicity inhaled. She was going to have to take care of him once and for all. "Jean Luc," she said simply, going over to him. "What are you doing out here?" He paid her question no mind. "That is why," he said again. "That is why you did not want to come back to France. That is why you acted so melancholy whenever his name was mentioned. That is why you would not let me kiss you." Ben looked confused. "What?" he asked. Felicity grimaced. Jean Luc was not exactly helping her make her point. "Nothing," she said to Ben. To Jean Luc, she asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know good and well what I am talking about, Miss Merriman!" he said. "You are in love with the apprentice!" Felicity blushed a little. Really, the only thing more aggravating than an American man was a French one! "That is none of your business," she said firmly.

"It is my business!" he argued. "I looked out for you for six months! I offered to take you back to France so that you might have a better life in society as well as marriage! And this is the thanks I get? You are a lady! You should not be having some silly affair with your father's apprentice! What did I say about bringing shame to your family?" And now she was angry. "I shall love who I please!" she exclaimed. "And without shame! As for you, Jean Luc-"

"Shh," whispered Ben. "I'll handle it." He walked over to Jean Luc and shook his hand. "Ah, Monsieur Beaumont," he said with a pleasant smile. "It's nice to see you again. I couldn't help but overhear that you tried to convince her to go back to France?"

"I did," answered Jean Luc coolly.

"And why is that?" asked Ben

"So she would have a better chance. She would be in a better class of people, and she would have better marriage prospects," said Jean Luc. "I do not want her associating with those beneath her. She is a lady, and she deserves a gentleman."

"She is a lady, isn't she?" Ben agreed, smiling at her. "But don't underestimate her, mind you. She's a bit feisty."

"I know," said Jean Luc. "Which is why she needs someone to look out for her to insure that she doesn't do anything too rash." Felicity frowned. "I do not need-" she started to say, but Ben held up his hand to quiet her.

"She does tend to get ahead of herself," he agreed. "And I am very thankful that you were kind enough to look out for her. But I think I can take it from here." Jean Luc blinked, then said, "Please, Mr. Davidson, I mean you no offense, but I honestly do not think you should really be associating with a fine lady such as herself at all, much less 'look out for her'."

"And why is that, may one ask?" asked Ben, not seeming the least bit offended.

"Mr. Davidson," said Jean Luc. "Be sensible. You…do not have the most money in the world, nor do you currently have the best social standing. I would hate to see Felicity throw all of her potential away for someone like yourself, wouldn't you?" At this point, if Felicity were Ben, she would have punched him in the nose. Yet Ben still kept his composure.

"Well," he said. "You're right, I don't have a lot of money, and I don't have much to offer her, whereas someone like yourself does. But I've got good morals, and I don't think Felicity would be throwing any potential away if she was with me; or anyone else, for that matter."

"She is my woman," said Jean Luc firmly. "I have been with her for six months." Felicity let out a small gasp at his choice of words, but Ben just said politely, "With all due respect, Monsieur, I have known her for nine years. And she is not your woman, nor is she mine, nor is she anyone else's. She is her own, and she can make her own decisions." Jean Luc seemed to be at a loss for words. "Furthermore," Ben continued. "I love her, even though I know tis a stupid thing to do. For both of us. But I suppose the heart wants who it wants, doesn't it? And while I genuinely appreciate all that you've done, I can take over now. If she so desires." Jean Luc looked at her seriously. "Do not be stupid, Felicity," he said. "France can give you much more than he can." Felicity stood up straight.

"I love him," she said firmly. "And I shall stay with him. No matter how poor he is." Jean Luc seemed a bit taken aback. "Well," he finally said. "If you are not going to change your mind…"

"Monsieur," said Ben, shaking his hand pleasantly. "Thank you for everything. Really. I can handle it. Besides, I do not think you would want to have to put up with her any longer than necessary. She can be a bit…" He looked at Felicity, who raised an eyebrow. "Stubborn," he half-whispered. "And the stubborn ones are the worst." Felicity opened her mouth to protest, then shut it when he subtly winked as if to say, "I'm just trying to get rid of him." Jean Luc frowned. "Then why do _you_ put up with her?" he asked. Ben shrugged. "I'm just used to her ways," he said. "Now _you_ be sensible, my good sir. Don't burden yourself with the trouble any longer. My goodness, six months must have seemed a lifetime! Lucky for me, I know how to handle her. Now, if I were you, I'd go wash up for supper. I happen to know that Mrs. Merriman will have a fit if your hands aren't clean." Jean Luc looked back at Felicity. "Well," he sighed. "I certainly hope you are happy. I certainly would not be if I were in your shoes."

"You needn't worry," she assured him. "And really, Jean Luc, thank you for everything." He sighed again. "You are welcome, mademoiselle," he said, kissing her hand.

"And thank you for bringing in the trunks," added Ben as Jean Luc was almost out the door. "It saved me a lot of heavy lifting." Jean Luc frowned.

"You are welcome," he said. "But I am not kissing your hand." Ben held up his hands. "I don't expect nor ask you to," he said. Jean Luc smiled a little. "Good," he said. Then he left. Ben ran a hand through his hair and went back to feeding the horses. Felicity was quiet a moment. Then she remarked, "You were certainly calm and collected back there." He turned to her. "Tis no reason to get angry," he said. "It throws the other off guard if you are pleasant, I've learned. And I think I did, and I made my point." She nodded a little, impressed by how his hotheadedness had significantly cooled down. Then she said, "Ben, I'm curious. What changed your mind?"  
"You did," he said, now hoisting himself onto a barrel. "First of all, you came back. Honestly, I had convinced myself that you would love it there and never return. Second of all, the way you stood up to Jean Luc like that? The way you wouldn't let him kiss you? The way you wouldn't go back to France with him? The way you seemed melancholy whenever I was mentioned? I figured you must be serious." She smiled. "And," he went on with a bit of a sheepish smirk. "Nan gave me a little talk." Now her smile was replaced by a wince. "Oh," she groaned. "I really wish she hadn't. I specifically asked her not to." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he said. "Everything is all right now." She nodded. Then, in realization, she said, "Well, for three months." He frowned. "Why three months?" he inquired.

"Your apprenticeship ends in February," she pointed out. His frown disappeared and was replaced by remembrance. "Oh," he said, frowning again. "Right." The two were quiet a moment. Then Felicity said, "Well, February is quite a ways off. We don't have to think about it yet." He just nodded, his brow still furrowed. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Yes," he said unconvincingly. "I just hadn't thought of that." He looked at her. "Certainly seems like we don't have much time together, do we?"

"We will just have to make the most of it," she said. "Because after that…"

"Goodbye," he finished. "For good, this time. Not just potentially." She nodded again. Then William came out. "Lissie," he said. "Ben-" he frowned when he saw his sister's and the apprentice's serious countenances. "Is this a private conversation?"

"No," said Felicity quickly. "No, William, it's not. What do you want?"

"I was going to tell you that supper is ready," he said, not seeming to believe her. "So…"

"We'll be right there," promised Ben. William looked at them suspiciously, but he said nothing and returned inside the house. Felicity looked back at Ben. "I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she said. He just nodded. Then he frowned. "What did you do to your hair?" he asked. She sighed. "Have you any idea how many times I've been asked that in the last twenty minutes?" she asked. He fingered it slowly. "Is it really that bad?" she asked. He shook his head. "Tis not bad at all," he said. "Just…surprising. Why did you cut it anyway?"

"Long story," she replied.

"I won't ask," he said. "I mean, it's your hair, after all."

"Precisely," she said. "And now, I think we should just get inside before Jean Luc eats both of our portions. You know what's funny? For a man who really doesn't do much all day, tis a wonder how he has such a huge appetite!" He laughed a little. "Tis one of the many mysteries of the French," he said. "One that we uncivilized Americans shall never figure out."

Jean Luc left the next day. Felicity rested after her long trip, and the day after that, paid Elizabeth a visit, who was dying to know about her trip. She seemed a bit frazzled and tired, yet she still managed to put some tea on and listen as her friend described everything, even the part about Ben. "I knew something would happen!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes sparkling when Felicity told her about the whole thing with him. "Oh Lissie, honestly, everybody could see it but you two!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Felicity laughed. "I don't know how it happened, it just did."

"Love works like that," Elizabeth agreed. Felicity sighed. "I don't think it will work, though," she said. "He leaves for good come February." Elizabeth frowned. "He is going back to Yorktown, isn't he?" she asked. Felicity nodded. "I wish he would stay here," she said. "And maybe he and Father could work out a partnership. But he wants to be on his own, he said."

"I wouldn't call his hometown being on his own," said Elizabeth. "Considering he's got his parents there to rely on." Felicity shook her head. "He won't let them help him at all," she said. "Unless he were really in a tight spot." Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. "I suppose you're right," she admitted. "And I shouldn't say anything. Caleb almost never been out of Williamsburg in his life."

"Exactly," Felicity agreed. Then she sighed. "I don't know. It feels sometimes that fate doesn't want us together. It took him away to war, them it made us not get along. Then it took me to France, and in three months time will take him back to Yorktown. And when people mess with fate, bad things happen." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "You over think these things," she said. "You two are in love. End of story."

"Not end of story," said Felicity. "We have no plans, no formalized commitments. Without those, you can't exactly have the firmest relationship." She sighed again. "I think we should just enjoy what little time we have left together. Then cross that bridge when we come to it."

"I don't understand you!" said Elizabeth. "You long for him the whole time you are in France. Then you get back and everything sorts itself out. Then you realize that you don't have too much time left with each other, so you naturally assume that it won't work out. Really Lissie!"

"I'm not assuming," said Felicity. "I just don't want to grow too terribly attached to him and then have him leave. At least not without any kind of commitment. And believe me, _that_ won't come anytime in the next century." Elizabeth shrugged. "Stranger things have happened," she said. Felicity just shook her head. "I'm just trying to be practical," she said. "I'm trying to use my brain, not my emotions." Elizabeth grinned. "And if you listened to your emotions," she said slyly. "What would you do then?" Felicity smiled shyly. "Everything I could do," she said simply. Elizabeth laughed. "Oh Lissie," she said. "You've got it bad."

"Perhaps," Felicity agreed. "But for now, I think tis just best to be careful."

She tried her best to take her own words to heart, and it seemed that Ben did as well, though she had never mentioned it to him. The tension between them was gone for the most part, and though they never got much of a chance to talk, Ben would smile whenever he saw her, and she would in response, then the two would usually go their separate ways. There were occasions, rare, but occasions nonetheless, where the two would end up alone together. And about a week later, the perfect one came. Well, the circumstances weren't exactly perfect. Mr. Merriman had received a letter one morning at breakfast. His face was grim as his eyes scanned the parchment. "What's the matter?" asked his wife. He looked at her and shook his head. "One of my aunts," he said. "She's fallen very ill, I'm afraid." This drew a chorus of "oohhs" from around the table. "That's too bad," said Nan.

"Which aunt?" asked William.

"Your great aunt Margaret," his father answered. He turned to his wife.

"I'd like to be with her," he said. "To help out a little bit."

"I will go with you," she said.

"I may be gone a while," he warned. "Besides, the children will need you." Nan winced, and Felicity shared her pain. They were hardly "children". Luckily, Mrs. Merriman thought the same way. "The children are quite grown up," she said. "They can manage the house for a little while; they did last year, when my aunt Ellen passed away." "It could be a few weeks," he pointed out.

"They can handle it," she said. "Can't you?"

"Yes ma'am," all five (Ben included) chorused. Mr. Merriman sighed.

"Fine," he agreed. "I'd like to leave in two days."

And in two days, they had left, leaving Ben and Felicity in charge again. Everything ran smoothly-until one day when Nan went to visit a friend who was ill with scarlet fever. No one thought anything of it until a few days later when she complained of a sore throat. And even then, Rose just made her some tea with honey. It wasn't for a few days until they started to realize that something might be really wrong. One evening, she barely ate any supper, and later Felicity found her next to the medicine chest, looking very pale. "Good gracious, Nan!" she exclaimed. "What's wrong?" Nan's face looked pained. "I don't know," she said hoarsely. "I think I may have gotten the fever when I visited Lara the other day." Felicity's eyes widened. "You've had it, haven't you?" Nan asked. Her sister nodded. "When I was very little," she said. "So has Ben. And now you've got it? When Mother and Father aren't here?!"

"I'm sorry!" said Nan. "I shouldn't have it too badly; I just took some medicine, and I feel better already!" Felicity raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Well, for now, go to bed," she said. "I'll sleep with Polly until you feel better. And stay away from the children; I don't want them getting it." Nan just nodded. "I'm sorry, Lissie," she said again. "I didn't think I would get it, and especially without Mother and Father here!"

"It isn't your fault," said Felicity. "I'll send for Mr. Galt in the morning, and then we can get you well again before they come home." Nan nodded again and left for her bedchamber, leaving her now troubled sister behind.

Mr. Galt, the apothecary, came the next day and confirmed Nan's suspicions. She did have scarlet fever and was on strict bed rest until she was no longer ill, which he said could be a while, depending on how bad it was. He left her a vial of medicine, which he instructed her to take twice a day. He also specifically said that the only people allowed to tend to her until Mr. and Mrs. Merriman came home were Felicity and Ben, since they had both had the fever when they were little. The children were strictly forbidden from coming anywhere near Nan, who was put in the other room so that Felicity could at least have her bedchamber. After he left, Felicity set up what was known as the sick room for Nan. She changed the sheets and aired out the pillows, then dusted all of the furniture. She set a bucket next to the bed in case Nan felt nauseous, and she pulled a chair next to the bed as well so she could take care of her. She sighed to herself and sat down on the bed. Scarlet fever could be deadly, she knew that. And now her sister had it. And to top it all off, her parents weren't home. She thought. Ben wouldn't be much help; he was at the store all day. Polly and William weren't allowed anywhere near Nan since they had never had the fever, so they would be useless. That left her. To run the household and take care of an invalid. All by herself. On one hand, it made her feel very grown up, but mostly it just stressed her. She sighed again. Well, she mustn't shirk. If something happened to Nan, she would be held responsible. She had to feed her and bathe her and comfort her and make sure she took her medicine. As if she were caring for a baby. It wasn't going to be easy. "Well," she thought, standing up. "Do what you have to do."

Nan's condition worsened over the next few days. She developed a rash, and her throat got worse. She complained of headaches and was often too miserable to eat because it hurt to swallow. She burned with fever one minute, then the next was as cold as ice. Felicity sat with her as much as she could, pressing cool rags to her face when she was hot and covering her with extra blankets when she was cold. Then she would have to dash downstairs to make sure that supper wasn't going up in smoke or to go settle an argument between William and Polly. She saw very little of Ben, but at this point, she could care less about him. Her main priority was getting Nan well, and so far, it wasn't working too well. Soon a week had rolled by, and Nan had only gotten worse. Her fever raged to the point where she was delirious and mistook Felicity for her mother. Felicity never left her side, despite her utter exhaustion. Her daily routine became wake up, get dressed, check on Nan, make breakfast, take care of Nan, do the laundry or whatever chore needed to be done, take care of Nan some more, make dinner, sit with Nan even more, make supper, and sit with Nan for a final spell before going to bed herself, usually around three in the morning. "I'm worried about her," she confided to William one evening. "She gets sicker and sicker every day."

"Do you think she will be all right?" he asked. She looked at him seriously.

"I can't say, Will," she sighed. "I've never really seen scarlet fever, but I know it's not good, nor do her chances look it." His face looked worried.

"Chances of…?" he asked nervously. She closed her eyes. "You know." He was quiet. Then he said, "She can't just die, can she? I mean…she can't…she is…"

"She could," she said gravely. "Or she could live. There's really no telling. All we can do is keep her comfortable and try to bring her fever down." He was quiet again. Then he said softly, "I wish she never visited Lara."

"I imagine she wishes the same," she agreed. "But look on the bright side. Lara recovered; who's to say that our Nan won't?" He shrugged. "I guess so," he mumbled.

"Exactly," she said. "Now hand me that tray, please. I'm going to bring our invalid her supper."

Poor Felicity tried to keep a positive attitude for her siblings' sakes, but once she saw her sister growing weaker and weaker by the day, her cheeriness flew out the window. Nan's face was as pale as the moon, and her reddish-brown hair was tangled on the pillow. Though closed, her eyes looked hollow. A cold fear filled Felicity, one she had not felt since she was nine years old and her mother was so very ill. She took her sister's hand. It was as hot as fire. Nan's eyes fluttered open. Felicity managed a weak smile. "How do you feel?" she asked softly. Nan's face looked pained. "I'm hot," she moaned. Felicity took a wet rag and pressed it to her sister's fire of a forehead. "There," she said soothingly. "Does that feel better?"

"A little," said Nan weakly. Felicity then reached for the tray she had brought up. "Here," she said, bringing a spoonful of the soup she and Rose had made. "Try to eat." Nan shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she said hoarsely.

"Please, dear, try to eat something," Felicity begged. "You need your strength."

"I don't want to," she protested. "It hurts."

"What hurts?" asked Felicity.

"Everything," said poor Nan. "My throat, my head, everything!" Felicity felt her forehead and frowned. "Well, at least take some more medicine," she said. "Perhaps it will help." Nan grimaced. "But it tastes terrible!" she complained.

"I know," said Felicity, gently pouring it into a spoon and lifting it to her lips. "But you must take it if you want to get well again." Nan sighed and quickly swallowed it. She winced as it went down. "Ugh," she groaned. "That stuff is the work of the devil! And it doesn't seem to be helping much, either!"

"We've got to keep trying," said Felicity, sealing the lid on the vial. "And quite the contrary, if it gets you well, then it is the work of God. Now you just rest. I'll be back in a little while."

Mr. Galt came occasionally, and every time he did, his face looked more and more grim. One day, after examining an even weaker Nan, he told Felicity that it may be a good idea to contact her parents. "Do you think they can leave your aunt for a while?" he asked. "Or at least one of them?"

"I don't know," she said. "I don't want to worry them more than they already have to." Mr. Galt took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Miss Merriman," he said. "We are starting to deal with a matter of life or death. It has become that serious. I've done all I can for your sister, as have you. All we can do now is continue to care for her and pray." Felicity frowned. "If you've done all you can for her," she said. "And I have done all I can for her, then what more good could my parents do?" Mr. Galt sighed. "Miss Merriman," he said. "Do you really think they would want to come home to a daughter sick with scarlet fever without knowing it? Or worse, a dead daughter, Heaven forbid?" Felicity was quiet. "You need to," he said, packing up his bag. "And as soon as possible. Your sister may be dying."

He had said the words: Nan could be dying. Yet Felicity was in denial. She refused to believe it. And when Polly brought it up a few days later, she still denied it. "Is Nan any better?" Polly asked while helping her sister with the mending. Felicity folded a pair of William's breeches and set them in the basket. "Not exactly," she said. "Her fever is still high, and she sleeps a lot."

"It's been nearly two weeks," Polly remarked, then muttered, "Ow," upon pricking her finger with the needle. Felicity nodded. "I know," she agreed. "It worries me a little."

"How bad is it?" Polly inquired. Felicity sighed. "Pretty bad," she said. "She's got a horrid rash, and she feels nauseous often. She keeps complaining of a sore throat, and she often mistakes me for Mother. I'm starting to not know what to do. I'm doing everything I can, but she's not getting better. If anything, she seems to be getting worse."

"Is she going to die?" asked Polly. Felicity's face clouded over. "No!" she said hotly, then tried again more gently, "No, lamb, she isn't. She will get better, you'll see."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said." Felicity closed her eyes. ''But that doesn't mean she won't, does it?"

"No," said Polly. "I suppose not."

"Right," said Felicity. "We mustn't think such things." It was then that Ben came into the room. "What things?" he asked.

"Nothing," Felicity lied. "Polly was just wondering about Nan."

"Oh."

Felicity turned back to her sister. "You don't worry about Nan, now, all right? She's going to be just fine." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ben raise an eyebrow in skepticism, but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut. "Are you sure?" asked Polly.

"Of course I am," lied Felicity. "Now you run along. I'll finish this up." She tenderly kissed the top of her head, and Polly left the room. Ben gave Felicity a sad look before following her out the door.

It wasn't until late the next night that she finally realized that she couldn't deny it anymore. It was nearing ten o' clock, and she sat by her sister's side, gently holding the hot hand. Nan was fast asleep, her breathing labored and heavy, as if it were a chore. Her poor frail body wracked with fever, a demon that had taken it over and would not leave. She was now just a slip of a ghost, hanging on to the last little bits of life. She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't speak. She wouldn't even open her eyes. Looking at her, Felicity realized the cold, hard truth: her sister was dying. She felt tears well up in her eyes. She brushed them away and felt Nan's forehead for the hundredth time. Hot as fire. Why did this happen? Scarlet fever happened to other people, not them. Yet now Nan was dying from it, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The medicine wasn't helping, and their prayers seemed to be in vain. "Perhaps tis God's will," she thought, though it was little consolation. Why would He want to take sweet, innocent Nan? Why did all the most wonderful people in the world die and the most horrid ones live? Why were the greatest war heroes killed in battle and the traitors made it back home? Why did the most caring women die in childbirth and the most dreadful lived to just abandon the child? Life was just not fair. "My poor Nan," she whispered, gingerly touching the tangled hair on the pillow. "Why did this have to happen to you?"

"I'm sure she wonders the same thing," said a voice from behind her. "When she is awake, at least." Felicity turned to see Ben leaning against the doorframe. She glanced at Nan, then joined him in the hallway. She looked him and opened her mouth to speak. His brown eyes pierced through her, deep and haunting, still unreadable. Then the dam broke. Her tears finally flooded over to the last person on earth she wanted to cry to. She couldn't help it, though. "Oh God!" she sobbed. "Oh God, Ben!" He shut the door so Nan wouldn't waken. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" she repeated. "What's wrong? Don't you see? She's dying, Ben, my sister is dying!" She squeezed her eyes shut, and she then felt her cheek against the soft linen of his shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "Shh," he whispered. "Shh. Hold on to me, Lissie." She tightly wrapped her arms around him and silently sobbed into his shirt. "She's dying," she repeated once she could talk.

"I know," he whispered. "I know." She straightened up and tried to wipe her eyes. "I-I just don't know what to do anymore!" she stammered. "And I'm so tired, and she isn't getting better, and-and-"

"Shh," he hushed. "Shh. Everything is all right." She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Let me take over," he said. Now she frowned. "What?" she asked.

"Let me take over," he repeated. "You need to rest." She shook her head.

"I'm fine," she lied. "Really, I can watch over her."

"No," he said. "Look at those dark circles! When was the last time you got any sleep?" She thought, then answered, "The night before last, for about three hours." He shook his head. "Felicity," he said. "Tis very compassionate of you to care about your sister so much, but you need your rest. You'll make yourself sick if you don't."

"I don't care!" she said hotly. "I wish it were me who was dying, not her!"

"No, you don't," he said gently. "No you don't." A fresh wave of tears came over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut and lay against his chest again. She felt his hand touch her hair tenderly. "Poor girl," he murmured. She didn't know if he meant her or Nan, but it didn't really matter. He then stood her up all the way and took her hands. "Let me take care of her," he said again. "You need to rest. You look awful." She paused, then asked, "Well, what about you?"

"What about me?" he inquired.

"I don't want you to fall sick too," she said. "You know how contagious it is." He smiled a wry smile. "You're not the only one in this house who has battled that fever, Felicity Merriman," he said. "Besides, if I can survive being shot in the arm, I think I can survive anything." She wiped her eyes and smiled a little bit. "Well," she said. "Don't get full of yourself now, Mr. Great War Hero." He laughed a little and let go of her hands. "In seriousness," he said. "With the way you've been working yourself, you have a much better chance of getting sick than I do." She just sighed.

"And now," he went on. "Stop being so stubborn and go lie down."

"But-" she started to protest.

"No," he said firmly. "I will take care of Nan, and you will go rest. I will carry you if I must." She sighed again, realizing there was no arguing with him at this point. "Fine," she finally agreed. "But be careful, will you?"

"I will," he promised. "Good night."

"Good night," she said. And she left for her own bedroom.

As she looked in the mirror while getting undressed, she realized that Ben was right. She _did_ look awful. Her eyes were hollow and had deep, dark circles under them. Her hair was falling out of its bun, and she noticed multiple stains on her gown. Probably (hopefully) broth. She didn't smell wonderful, either. So she went downstairs and took the time to draw herself a bath. Once this was done, she put on her nightgown and brushed her hair, putting it in its nightly braid. She didn't feel any better about Nan, but at least she felt clean. She pulled back the covers and before her head even hit the pillow, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She awoke a few hours later and blinked. It was still dark outside. She rolled over and reached for her grandfather's old pocket watch she kept on the nightstand. It read four thirty. Now wide awake, she sat up. Six and a half hours. That was the most sleep she had gotten in days, a week even. She slid on her slippers and quietly stepped into the hallway to go see to Nan. When she got to the sick room, she saw that Nan had kicked off all the covers and was now shivering in her sleep. Felicity covered her again, and the shaking subsided. She felt her forehead. It was cooler than the last time she checked, but not significantly so. Nan rolled over and mumbled something incomprehensible. Felicity figured that she was probably all right to be left alone for a few more hours, so she brushed a piece of hair away from her face and left. She was almost back to her own room when she had the sudden urge to go into her parents' room. She turned and went in quietly. Ben was lying on the bed (since he was allowed to sleep in there when Mr. and Mrs. Merriman were gone), fast asleep. His arm was draped over his head, and his breathing was heavy. The bed was still covered, and he was still dressed. She sat on the bed next to him. He looked so peaceful, so sweet and innocent. So young. She touched his hair, then said softly, "I think you would be much more comfortable if you undressed _before_ you went to bed." His eyes fluttered open, and a gentle smile graced his face when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" he asked sleepily.

"Just…checking on you, I suppose," she said. Then she asked. "How was Nan? Any better?" His smile faded. "No," he said. "She woke up a few times and didn't recognize me."

"Oh," she said quietly. Neither said anything for a moment. Then he said, "I wrote to your parents a couple of days ago. I asked if one if not both could come home immediately. With any luck, they could be home at week's end."

"Did you tell them what's wrong?" she asked. He nodded. "I know you didn't want to worry them," he said. "But it's getting really serious, Felicity. You can't deny it anymore." She nodded and lay down next to him. "I know," she said. "And thank you; I don't know how much more I can do." He took her hand. "You've done all you can," he said. "And you know what?"

"What?"

"You are going to make a wonderful mother one day." She smiled a little. He then looked down. "You have pretty hands," he remarked. "Especially compared to my rough and ugly one." She squeezed his even more tightly.

"'Good pilgrim," she quoted. "You do wrong your hand too much'. Thy hands are perfect simply because they are thine, as well as every other part of thee." He raised an eyebrow. "Why the formality?" he asked.

"It sounds much prettier than just saying 'you'," she said. He smiled. "All right then," he said. "Thou hast pretty hands." She smiled back and kissed his hand. He squeezed hers in response. Then she asked, "Do you remember the day we first met?" He smiled and nodded. "Aye," he said. "Like it was yesterday."

"Now that I look back," she said. "I really was just a little girl. I used to be hated being called such. But I was, wasn't I?"

"Only nine years old," he said. "And I thought I was soo grown up because I was fourteen."

"Even fourteen seems ages ago," she remarked. "Though it was just four years ago."

"It seems like a lifetime to me," he said. "Only fourteen. Having no idea what the world was really like. So innocent and stupid."

"You've never been stupid," she said. "Clueless, yes, but never stupid."

"Innocent, anyway," he said. "Until the war took it away."

"That war was the end of innocence for all of us," she said. "Imagine losing it at eleven or twelve." His hand brushed her cheek affectionately.

"You've grown up well beyond your years," he said. "You're only eighteen, and you can run a household like a thirty-year-old." She held his hand there and closed her eyes. "So have you," she said softly. "I suppose the army made you grow up pretty quickly, didn't it?"

"It did," he agreed. "It did indeed." She reached up and stroked his hair.

"You're a strong man, Ben," she said. "You're much stronger than I am."

"I'm not so sure about that," he whispered. She just smiled. Then her countenance became serious, and she looked up at him. "What are we going to do about all of this?"

"Hope and pray, I guess," he said. "Tis all we can do."

"Surely we can do more than hope and pray," she said.

"I don't see how," he said. "We've done everything else, and poor Nan just gets worse and worse." Now she frowned. "What are you talking about?" she asked. He sat up, looking confused. "What are _you_ talking about?" he asked.

"I'm talking about you and me," she said. "What are we going to do about _this_?" She gestured to both of them. He frowned. "Oh," he said. "Well, what is there we need to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "You will be leaving soon, and I don't want to get too close to you only to lose you again."

"So what are you saying?" he asked. "That we shouldn't be around each other anymore?"

"No," she said. "No, that's not it. I-I just don't want to get too serious. That's all."

"Are…you serious now?" he asked softly. She looked at him sadly. "I'm afraid I might be," she said. "And I don't want to be."

"And why is that?" he asked, his voice now just barely above a whisper.

"Because it could end too quickly," she said. "When you leave again." He was quiet. "You're not offended, are you?" she asked. He shook his head.

"No, I understand," he said, almost thoughtfully. "I understand perfectly." Both were silent. Then she said, "Well, I'm going to go check on Nan again." She started to rise, but he lay her back down. "No, you're not," he whispered. "_I_ will."

"Ben," she protested, but he was as stubborn as she was. "No," he said again. "You've done too much. I'll take care of it. You rest."

"I'm not tired," she said.

"You will be in about half an hour," he said.

"And what about you?" she asked. "How much sleep have you gotten?"

"Tonight, about three hours," he said. "Which is about as much as you have gotten the whole time she has been ill. Besides-" he rose to his feet. "Tis nearly time for me to get up anyway. Here, get up a minute." She obeyed, and he pulled the covers back. She then crawled under the blankets. "You just rest now," he said gently. He turned to leave, then turned back around, leaned over, and kissed her forehead. Then he left to go tend to her sister. She rolled over to where he had been lying and drew her knees to her chest. The bed was still warm from his body. She inhaled, taking comfort in his scent, and soon fell fast asleep.

By the end of the week, Nan was still alive, but she wasn't any better. Felicity looked after her all day until Ben came home, then he took over for the rest of the evening. It was starting to catch up with him, too. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his face was unshaven. He seemed tired a lot, and according to Elizabeth, who had stopped by the store a few days prior, "he looked as tired as if his wife had just had a baby". Only William and Polly weren't utterly exhausted, and both were worried sick about their older sister. Those who knew and loved Nan often came by to give their condolences, though Felicity would never let them see her. Everyone missed her. She was asked about at church and at the store, and her friend Lara, who had given it to her, felt awful. "Tis all my fault," she cried to Felicity after church on Sunday. "If she hadn't seen me when I was sick, this would have never happened!"

"It isn't your fault, Lara," Felicity assured her. "Nan has always been a bit of a sickly child."

"Still," said Lara. "I gave it to her, and now she's dying!"

"It could have happened to anyone," said Felicity. "And remember, someone or other gave it to you first."

"I suppose," said Lara. "But that doesn't make me feel any better. And I can't even do anything for her!"

"Neither can we," said Felicity. "But you know what you can do? Just keep her in your prayers. She will be glad to know that you are thinking of her. Can you do that?" Lara sniffled and nodded. "Good," said Felicity. "We certainly appreciate it."

Later that evening, Felicity, Rose, and Polly made supper, William took care of the horses, and Ben tended to Nan. The girls worked in silence. What was there to say? The whole house was numb, and its inhabitants seemed to haunt it like restless ghosts. Felicity's vision was blurred as she stirred the stew. It had been two weeks since Nan fell ill, and miraculously, she was still here, sick as she was. Felicity as well as Ben didn't believe that she was going to make it much longer. Even worse, it was coming upon Christmas, and if they lost Nan, Christmas would be a day of mourning instead of celebration. Her vision became even more blurred, and she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid adding any unwanted salt to the stew. This did not go unnoticed. "Lissie?" asked Polly. "Are you all right?" Felicity opened her eyes and managed a weak smile. "I'm fine," she lied. Polly didn't look convinced. "Are you crying?" she asked. Felicity shook her head. "No, dear, tis just the onions," she said shakily. "Now will you please go set the table while I finish this up?" Polly frowned, but she nodded slowly and left the kitchen. Felicity looked down again. After a while, Rose said quietly, "It isn't the onions, I reckon." Felicity looked at her sadly. "Oh Rose!" she moaned. "The onions are the least of my worries!"

"What is it, child?" Rose asked. "Is it Mr. Davidson again?" Felicity shook her head. "Nay, tis not," she said. "Oh goodness, he is the most wonderful man in the world! No, tis not him. Tis poor Nan. She's going to die, Rose, she's going to die soon, and my parents aren't here, and this Christmas is going to be the worst yet because she won't be here, and-and"

"Shh, child," said Rose. "You're worrying too much. No one has said for certain that she is going to die."

"Have you seen her?" Felicity retorted. "She is at death's door as we speak!" Rose was quiet. "This will be the worst Christmas yet," Felicity went on. "I can tell already. Oh, why did she have to visit Lara in the first place?"

"Well, what's done is done," said Rose. "Besides, you never know. This could turn the other way, and she will get well again." Felicity smiled a sad smile. "Wouldn't that be a Christmas miracle," she said. It was then that she heard the front door open. She then heard excited voices, and she stopped stirring. She and Rose glanced at each other and frowned. A second later, William came running inside. "Lissie!" he exclaimed. "Lissie! Come quickly!"

"Why? What is it?" she asked worriedly as he tugged on her hand.

"Come on!" he urged. "Mother and Father are home!"

The sight of her parents had never been more welcoming as they all gathered around in the parlor. "When did you leave?" Felicity asked.

"About two days ago," said Father. "As soon as we got Ben's letter."

"How long has she been sick?" asked Mother.

"Nearly two weeks," said Felicity.

"Two weeks!" gasped Mrs. Merriman. "Why on earth didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I'm sorry," said Felicity. "But I didn't want you to worry! Besides, I thought we could get her well before you got home."

"Scarlet fever is dangerous, Felicity," said Mr. Merriman seriously. "You know that." She looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought I could get her well myself." Mrs. Merriman kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Oh darling," she said. "You shouldn't have had to go through that by yourself!"

"Ben helped," said Felicity. "He's taking care of her as we speak."

"I hope neither of you fall ill," said Father.

"I don't think we will," she said. "Both of us have had the fever, and once you've had it, you typically don't get it again." Mother kissed her again.

"Well, I'm very proud of you," she said. "Both of you."

"How is she?" asked Father. Felicity shook her head. "Not good, I'm afraid," she said. "I think-God-" she paused, trying to fight even more tears back. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I think her days are numbered." Her parents' faces were grim as her tears fell. "Oh dear," murmured Mr. Merriman as his wife held Felicity's head and stroked her auburn hair soothingly. "Oh Martha, we should have come sooner!"

"I'm sorry!" Felicity cried. "I did all I could, honest I did! Mr. Galt has been checking on her every few days, and even he says that there is not much left we can do for her! I've tried a wide assortment of medicines, prayer, holy water, even! But nothing is working. Nothing!"

"There, there," said Mother soothingly. "Tis not your fault, dear. You did everything you could to help her. I only wish you would have told us sooner."

"I'm sorry," Felicity said again. "I know I should have, but I didn't want to worry you, and I wanted to show you that I can manage things on my own."

"We know you can," said Father. "But there are some things that are just too big for you to handle on your own. Why, these things are often even too big for us to handle!"

"We appreciate everything you and Ben have done," said Mrs. Merriman. "But now, let me take care of her. You're not to worry, darling, you've done more than enough. You're not to worry." Felicity nodded.

"Good, then," said Mother, kissing her and ruffling her hair. "Now, why don't you go finish setting the table, and I'll go see to Nan, all right?"

Felicity rested a lot the next few days. She and Polly took care of the household chores, and their mother never left Nan's side. There was still no improvement in her, but she didn't get worse either. Mrs. Merriman said that she smiled a little when she saw her, which was a good sign. Felicity knew she should be relieved that her parents were home, and she was, but she couldn't stop worrying about poor Nan. She was tired of her sister's life hanging in the gallows. She couldn't understand why Nan hadn't passed yet. She was sick enough to, that was for sure. And she had been for a long time now. Felicity vented all of this to Elizabeth one cold afternoon at the store. "I just don't understand it," she said. "She's alive, but barely. It's more frustrating than anything else, all this worrying."

"Is she in pain?" asked Elizabeth.

"I don't know," said Felicity. "I can't tell. She looks it."

"Poor girl," Elizabeth murmured. "I'm sorry, Felicity, truly I am. I can't imagine what I would do if something like that happened to Annabelle."

"It's scary," Felicity agreed. "And what's scarier is not knowing how much longer she is going to live."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said again. "You're strong, Lissie, you're much stronger than me. I could never watch my sister die without screaming and pulling my hair out."

"Takes practice," said Felicity. Then Elizabeth asked, "And what about him?" She nodded to the counter where Ben was ringing up a lady's purchases.

"What about him?" asked Felicity.

"Has anything…happened?" asked Elizabeth. "Have you gotten any further with him?" Felicity groaned. "Elizabeth," she said. "There are bigger issues at hand here!"

"I know," said Elizabeth. "But I would think that it's the next biggest issue in your life right now." Felicity sighed. "I told him that I don't want to get too serious," she said.

"So you have at least talked," said Elizabeth.

"Of course we've talked," said Felicity. "Not very much, but we have."

"About what?" asked Elizabeth excitedly, and Felicity laughed at her eagerness. "You know," she joked. "Politics. Issues between England and France. Taxes. Those kind of things." Elizabeth frowned. "Be serious," she said. "What have you talked about?"

"Mostly Nan," said Felicity. "And how she doesn't seem to be getting any better."

"How romantic," said Elizabeth sarcastically. Felicity shrugged. "She is the most important thing in my mind right now," she said. "I don't have time for some silly romantic affair that won't go anywhere." Elizabeth looked back at Ben. "I don't think it's as silly as you think," she said softly. Then she said, "Well, I should be getting home."

"So soon?" asked Felicity. "Why don't you stay a while?"

"I'm sorry," said Elizabeth. "I don't feel so great myself. I've got a splitting headache." Felicity's eyes widened. "Oh no," she said. "You're not getting it too, are you?"

"No," said Elizabeth. "I had it as a child. I just don't feel quite right. It must be the cold weather." Felicity just nodded. "I hope Nan gets better," Elizabeth continued. "Really, I do."

"Thank you," said Felicity. "You too."

"I'm sure I will by this evening," Elizabeth assured her. "Tis nothing a hot cup of tea won't fix. Good day. And I hope something works out between you and-" she lowered her voice. "You know who."  
Felicity just laughed. "Goodbye, Elizabeth," she said.

Christmastime came upon them quickly. It was usually the happiest, most joyful time of year, but no one in the Merriman household was happy. Nan still hadn't improved. Felicity tried to keep herself busy by baking and decorating the house with all sorts of greenery, but it didn't help. Every little thing reminded her that this would probably be Nan's last Christmas…if she made it that long. Mrs. Merriman had said to try to make this Christmas extra special, since it was potentially Nan's last (and also the last Christmas Ben would be with them). While everyone tried, it was extremely hard to keep a stiff upper lip as they started to say goodbye to Nan. "Goodbye," thought Felicity bitterly as she nestled a sprig of holly in Nan's windowsill. She had decided to bring a bit of Christmas cheer into Nan's room, to try to make it a bit more friendly. It wasn't lifting her spirits, but maybe it would lift her sister's a bit. She looked at her sleeping sister. "Why must we say goodbye so soon?" she thought. "I hate that word. It causes people nothing but pain." She looked at the window and sighed. Dreary, dreary, dreary. Cold and gray. That was her life. It had been her life for many years now, ever since she was about eleven and that awful war started. She was tired of the clouds. The clouds of fear and worry. The clouds of sadness and depression. The clouds of loss. She was more than ready to see the sunshine again, and she doubted she ever would. What was the sunshine? And where was it? Would she ever feel its warmth again? Its light? She had not seen light in so long; she lived in perpetual darkness. In a dark, cold world. She sighed and placed a string of ivy along the mantle of the fireplace. All of a sudden, she heard the front door slam. "We've done it!" she heard Ben's voice call excitedly. Startled, she dropped the ivy. She then heard William's voice cry, "Ma! Lissie! Polly! It's over! It's all over!"

"What's all over?" she heard her mother ask. "What's all the commotion?" Felicity heard her father come in. "Martha, listen!" he said. "Listen to everyone in the streets! It's done!"

"What is?" asked Polly. Felicity then heard all of their voices at once, chattering excitedly. A minute later, she heard footsteps running up the stairs. Ben appeared in the doorway, a grin on his face. "Lissie!" he exclaimed. "Oh Lissie, have you heard? It's over! We've done it!"

"What?" she asked. "Done what?"

"We've beaten them!" he exclaimed. "Those damn Tories finally surrendered! Tis official now; we're free, Lissie, we're free!" Her head was now spinning. "Really?" she asked, hardly believing that the long war was really and truly over. "They really surrendered?"

"Yes, Lissie, my girl," he laughed, picking her up and spinning her around. "We really and truly won!" A huge smile spread across her face. "Oh Ben!" she cried, hugging him even more tightly. "Oh Benjamin! Tis all over! Oh, God be praised!"

"They signed the Treaty of Paris back in September," he said. "When you were there, actually. But word has just now reached us here."

"It doesn't matter how long it took," she said. "It's happened! We're finally free! Oh God, Benjamin Davidson, have you any idea how proud of you I am?" He held her at arm's length. "Don't give me credit," he said. "I didn't do much, you know."

"I don't care if you were nothing but a foot soldier from Virginia or George Washington himself," she said. "You played your part, and because of that as well of the thousands of other men who did the same, we are now our own country. And I love you so very very much." He smiled a beautiful smile. Then he leaned in, hesitated a spilt second, and kissed her. A real kiss. Not on the hand, not on the forehead. She felt her heart race as his lips met hers. She closed her eyes, and he drew her even closer to him until their bodies were touching. She felt his hand at the nape of her neck. It was cold, but she barely noticed. He continued to kiss her with a gentle yet undeniable passion, and she kissed him with just as much. She let her hand rest on his shoulder as his lay on her waist. She could almost feel his heart beat. Then she heard a faint, "Lissie?" Startled, her eyes opened, and hers and Ben's lips drew apart. She looked over to the bed where Nan was lying, a gentle smile upon her pale face. "Would you like me to step out a moment?" she asked.


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter 17_

Nan's fever broke that very night, and she finally slept normally. Her face was free of any pain, and her forehead was cool. She was still weak, but she could sit up now and eat and sleep peacefully. A few days later, Mrs. Merriman let Ben bring her downstairs so that she could be on the sofa to recuperate. Her peaked face smiled in his arms when she saw the house in its Christmas finery. "Oh," she sighed. "Tis like a dream!"

"It's always looked like this at Christmas," said William. Nan shook her head.

"No," she said. "It's different this year somehow." Ben gently lay her down on the sofa.

"You're just tired of that dull sick room," said Mother, wrapping a blanket around her. "Though Lissie did a fine job of sprucing it up for the holiday."

"I noticed," said Nan, giving her older sister a sly look. "A fine job indeed." Felicity blushed and looked at the floor. "Everyone asked about you," she said, changing the subject. "And hopes you feel better. And will you _please_ tell Lara that it's not her fault you fell ill? She won't believe me if I tell her." Nan laughed a little. "I'll tell her," she promised. Then Polly said, "Lissie never left your side the whole time you were sick."

"Until Ben made her," added William. "Then he took the night shift, so to speak."

"And even that took a lot of persistence," said Ben. He looked at Felicity and gave a small smile.

"I thought I was dreaming when I saw a man by my bedside," said Nan, making the others laugh. Then Mrs. Merriman asked, "Do you need anything, dear? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"I'm starving," said Nan.

"What would you like?" asked Mother.

"Anything," said Nan. Mother smiled and went to go fix her something, and William, Ben, and Polly went about their business. That left Felicity and Nan. The two were quiet a moment. Then Nan said, "I can tell, you know."

"Tell what?" asked Felicity.

"That he loves you," said Nan. Felicity turned red. "How?" she asked.

"I just can," said Nan. "It's in his eyes. I saw that smile. And…something else." She grinned impishly.

"Oh Nan!" groaned Felicity. "Really!"

"Relax," said Nan. "I'm just teasing you." Felicity just rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I rather think him irrelevant at the present," she said. "What we have to focus on now is getting you good and strong again."

"Mother says I can come back into our room in a few days," said Nan, dropping the subject of Ben.

"Good," said Felicity. "Believe it or not, I've missed you taking all the covers at night." Nan smiled.

"And I've missed you talking in your sleep," she said. Her sister frowned. "I do not either!" she argued.

"Yes, you do," said Nan. "A couple weeks ago, you said, 'No, Jean Luc, I can't! I don't want to!" Felicity turned red again. Apparently she did talk in her sleep. "I suppose there are worse things one can do," she said. Nan nodded. "Speaking of which," Felicity continued. "You look tired."

"I am, a little," Nan admitted.

"I'll let you rest," said Felicity. "You need to get your strength back." She turned to leave. Then Nan called, "Lissie?" Felicity turned back around. Nan smiled a little. "Thank you," she said. "For looking after me while I was sick. I didn't think you cared." Felicity smiled back. "You're my sister," she said. "Of course I care. And you're more than welcome."

"I really am grateful," said Nan. "Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

"Never worry me like that again," said Felicity. "We almost lost you, Nan."

"I know," said Nan. "And I'm sorry."

"Tis not your fault," said Felicity. "You just rest now, all right?" Nan nodded and closed her eyes. Felicity covered her with the blanket and went to go do the laundry.

A couple of days later, while changing the sheets, Felicity's mind shifted to Ben's future, of all things. Soon, she thought, he would probably have a store and house of his own. He would need money, and as of right now, he really didn't have much at all, except maybe a small inheritance from a dead uncle. She knew that his father planned to give him his old silver shop that he could turn into his own store, but Ben couldn't stay with his parents forever, and she knew that he would shoot himself before he did that. He needed to be on his own, and he had firmly stated that he was _not_ going to rely on his parents for anything unless it was a life or death situation. But that might be slightly hard to do with very little money. Ben, she had come to realize, was not very good at planning. She looked over at her pocketbook lying on the dressing table. She then had an idea. From under her bed, she pulled out a box with all of the wages she had made in France, not a penny of it spent. All four hundred pounds. "Really," she thought as she carried it out of her room and down the stairs. "What do I need it for?"

A minute later, she knocked on Ben's door. It opened. She held out the box. "Here," she said. He frowned, but took it. His eyes bugged as he opened the lid. "Holy…" he murmured. "Where on earth did you get all this money?"

"France," she answered. "It's my governess money. All four hundred pounds. And I didn't beg, borrow, or steal any of it. Monsieur Beaumont was a very generous employer."

"Why are you showing it to me?" he asked.

"I'm giving it to you," she said simply. His eyes widened.

"You're what now?" he asked. "It sounded like you said you're giving it to me."

"I did," she said. "You need it more than I do." He tried to give it back to her. "I can't accept this, Felicity," he said.

"Yes you can," she said.

"No," he protested. "It's your money; you earned it. And there is no way I'm taking it from you."

"You're not," she said. "I'm giving it to you." He stared down at the box. "How about we split it?" he suggested. "You get half and I get half." She shook her head. "I told you," she said. "I have no use for it, and you do. You're taking all of it even if I have to force you to."

"I'm not going to accept charity," he said firmly. "I don't have much, but I still have my pride."

"It's not charity," she said. "It's a gift from a…friend to a friend." He raised an eyebrow. "That's an awfully big gift, don't you think?"  
he asked.

"And what's wrong with that?" she asked. "Please, Ben, why must you be so stubborn about everything?" The corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile. "Now that's the pot calling the kettle black," he said. She rolled her eyes. "Just take it," she said. He shook his head. "I can't," he said, trying to give it back to her again.

"No," she said, backing up, then started to hurry down the ladder. "You'll have to catch me first!" She broke into a run out of the stable, then she heard him call, "Lissie?" She turned and looked up. He smiled a little. "Thank you," he said. "I do appreciate it." She grinned up at him. "Now was that really so hard?" she teased. He frowned. "Don't push it, girlie," he said. She just smiled and rolled her eyes and left the stable.

A week went by, and everyone was in good spirits. The Treaty of Paris had cheered everyone up significantly, Christmas was fast approaching, and Nan was recovering superbly. Soon she was able to sleep in her own bedroom again with her sister, and the two were able to continue with their nightly gossips. Another joy was about to come their way, too. One sunny, crisp day, Felicity was helping at the store (she was really supposed to be ironing, but she bribed Polly to do it for her). She had been dusting one of the shelves when Elizabeth came in. "Elizabeth!" called Felicity happily. She hopped off the ladder and went over to her friend. "Long time no see."

"It was last week," said Elizabeth.

"Just the same," said Felicity. "Anyway, can you believe it? The war has finally ended! And Nan is finally well again!"

"Yes," said Elizabeth a bit absentmindedly. "That's very good." Felicity frowned. "Is everything all right?" she asked. "You seem a bit troubled." Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm not troubled," she said. "But I really need to talk to you about something. Do you have somewhere private we can go?" This sounded important. "Come on," said Felicity. "We can go to my house."

Once in the safety of her bedroom, Felicity closed the door and sat on the bed across from Elizabeth, who paced eagerly. "Now, what is this all about?" she asked. "You seem so anxious."

"I am," said Elizabeth. Felicity's face fell. "Oh no," she said. "What did Caleb do?"

"Nothing," said Elizabeth. Then she thought and said, "Well, I suppose he did do _something_."

"Does he have another woman?" whispered Felicity. Elizabeth laughed. "Goodness, no!" she said. "Good Lord, Felicity!"

"Are you two having problems?" Felicity guessed again. "It's all right, Elizabeth, all married couples have arguments."

"No," Elizabeth laughed again. "No, Caleb is fine, and so am I."

"Well, then what is it?" asked Felicity. Elizabeth sighed.  
"Listen," she said. "I don't really know how to say this, so please don't go hysterical." Felicity frowned. "Why should I go hysterical?" she asked. Elizabeth smiled. "Because," she said simply. "Caleb and I are going to have a baby." Felicity's eyes lit up, and she felt her jaw drop. "Oh! Oh my" she stammered, then her face broke out into a huge smile. "Oh Elizabeth! Really and truly? You're pregnant as we speak?"

"Yes," said Elizabeth with a laugh. "Yes, Felicity, I am pregnant as we speak." Felicity jumped up and hugged her friend tightly. "Oh Lizzy!" she exclaimed. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," said Elizabeth, hugging her back. Then Felicity stepped back. "So that's why you haven't been feeling well!" she said. "How far along are you?"

"About five or six weeks," said Elizabeth. "It's due in August."

"What are you hoping for?" asked Felicity. "A boy or a girl?"

"Oh, I don't care," said Elizabeth. "As long as it's healthy." Then she grinned a bit sheepishly. "All right, I'm secretly hoping it's a little girl," she confessed. Felicity grinned. "When did you find out?" she asked.

"Just last week," said Elizabeth. "You're the only one I've told besides Caleb. Oh Lissie, you should have seen the look on his face when I told him! He was so pleased!"

"I imagine," said Felicity. "After all, he's going to be a father!"

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" asked Elizabeth.

"Very," agreed Felicity. "Have you thought of any names?"

"Not really," said Elizabeth. "I like Juliet if it's a girl, and I like Jack for a boy."

"Those are nice," agreed Felicity. "But I suppose you've got plenty of time to think about that." Elizabeth nodded. "Eight months seems so long to wait," she said.

"Yes," said Felicity. "But I suppose you need all that time to prepare." Then she smiled again. "Oh Lizzy, I couldn't be happier for you and Caleb, I really couldn't! And I can hardly wait to meet and hold this little baby!"

"Neither can I," said Elizabeth with a grin. "Neither can I."

Between the Treaty of Paris, Nan's recovery, and Elizabeth's baby, life was starting to look up. Soon Christmas Eve rolled around. It started out as they typically do, with last minute preparations and whatnot. It was a busy day of baking and cleaning and callers, but things settled down once evening fell. The snow fell gently, and the church that evening was decorated in all sorts of greenery and lit by candles, giving it a soft and peaceful glow. Felicity felt serene as she sat between Ben and Nan, listening to the gospel of Luke. There was something special about Christmas Eve, an overwhelming sense of holiness that seemed to sweep over the world. It was a still, calm night, one where it seemed everyone stopped their own lives and problems and came together as one to worship Christ. Christmas Day was more of a day of celebration, but there was a certain magic about the night before, a timelessness about it. She glanced at Ben. His face was solemn, yet there was a holiness about it, as if he were in some sort of trance. Remembering, maybe. She looked at Nan, and her countenance was similar. She closed her eyes. "Thank you, Lord," she prayed silently. "For this holy night."

The service continued , and at the end the organ started to play "O Come All Ye Faithful". Everyone rose, and a second later the air was filled with voices, some beautiful and others off key, but to Felicity, it sounded like angels. To her left, Nan's sweet soprano mixed with Ben's quiet tenor to her right. She glanced at him and smiled to herself. He actually had a very nice voice. "Yea, Lord we greet thee," she sang with everyone else. "Born this happy morning, Jesus to thee be glory given." She felt Ben's hand grasp her own. She glanced up at him, and he at her, his face still solemn. She squeezed his hand in response and looked forward. "Word of the Father," everyone continued, though the only one she heard was him. "Now in flesh appearing. O come let us adore Him." His eyes locked with hers. "O come let us adore Him." There was something about his eyes, a certain, tender look in them. "O come let us adore Him, Christ The Lord," everyone finished. Ben and Felicity gazed at each other for a split second, and in that time, she honestly couldn't see anyone else. He seemed to have a heavenly aura about him, his face illuminated by candlelight, his eyes trying to tell her something, though she still couldn't figure out what. Then the organ started to play a more upbeat, lighthearted tune, and everyone gathered their belongings. Ben dropped her hand, and the spell was broken. She absentmindedly followed Nan out of the pew. She shook her head. What had just happened? It had almost seemed as if time itself had stopped just for a split second. She glanced at Ben behind her. He still had a serene look about him. She turned back around. He hadn't been just the apprentice. He hadn't been just Ben. In that split second, he had been an angel.

After church, everyone stood around and mingled. Felicity and Elizabeth whispered about the coming baby and gossiped about who was having an affair with who, then Felicity and her mother listened to Mrs. Fitchett complain about prices of this, that, and the other thing and then remark on how lovely Felicity had gotten and how grown up she was. While it made her blush, it was nice to know people who had watched you grow up. Finally, they made it home. It was late when they got there. Ben said good night and went to bed, and Mother sent the children up to bed. "Oh dear," she said as she was about to go tuck in Polly. "I forgot to give Ben his laundry."  
"I'll run it up to him," Felicity volunteered. Her mother smiled. "Thank you, dear," she said.

Felicity knocked on his door a moment later, the laundry basket under one arm. He opened it. "Got yer laundry for ya, sir," she drawled. He grinned. "Thank ya kindly, ma'am," he drawled back.

"Here," she offered. "I'll help you put it away." He closed the door behind her. He had changed out of his church clothes into a simple shirt and breeches. His casual attire made her feel at ease in spite of the fact that she was still in her own church clothes. She folded a few of his shirts and put them in the dresser. He did likewise. They worked in silence for several minutes. Then Felicity said, "Your last Christmas with us."

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"Do you keep forgetting?" she asked. "You're leaving for Yorktown in February. And as far as holidays are concerned, I'm sure you'll want to spend them with your parents."

"Well, probably," he admitted. "That doesn't mean I'll never come back here, though."

"I know," she said. "But it won't be the same." She closed the drawer and sighed. "You are our family, Ben," she said. "You've always had a special place in my heart."

"And you've had in mine," he said. "As a sister and friend, though the latter was after you grew up some. And now…well, you probably have the most special place now."

She smiled a little. "I remember I didn't really like you when I first met you," she said. "I thought you were stuck-up and arrogant, when really, you were just shy." He started to uncover the bed. "I think I've always been, a little," he said. He pulled back the sheets and looked up at her. "But you," he said. "You brought a lot of things out of me that I didn't know existed." He then smiled a little. "And what have I taught you in return? How to swim and whistle and spit. Very ladylike, no?"

"You've taught me much more than that," she said softly. "Much more." Then she said, "I haven't been very fair to you, Ben, and I'm sorry. I think you had every right in the world to be cold and bitter about love as well as…well, life itself."

"Nan said to plead insanity," he said with a wry smile. "That's not far from the truth, either."

"I think that the war drove everyone insane to some extent," she said. "Especially soldiers like you."

"That was no excuse to take it out on you, though," he said. "I'm the one who hasn't been very fair, Lissie. And I'm sorry." He unfolded the quilt and spread it across the bed. Then he said, "You helped, though. You've always helped me whenever I was hurt or unhappy, and I've always tried to do the same for you. I'm forever grateful to you for that. I think-I think you saved me, in every way a person can be saved."

"And you did me," she said. The two were silent a moment. Then she said, "You know what's funny? Late one night when I was in France, I could have sworn I heard your voice. I could distinctly hear you calling my name and saying that you loved me." He frowned.

"That's odd," he remarked.

"I know," she agreed. "I must have been going crazy."

"No, not that," he said. "I mean, I thought I heard _you_ saying the same thing. Then I said your name and that I loved you." She frowned. "What day was it?" she asked.

"September eighth, I think," he said. She looked at him. "Is it not more than a coincidence that we both heard the same thing at the same time, though thousands of miles apart?" she asked.

"Tis definitely more than a coincidence," he agreed. "Tis almost spooky. But I guess it's just one of those funny mysteries of the world." She just nodded, thinking it a bit deeper than just a mystery. They were quiet again. Then he asked, "Do you know what your name means?"

"Happiness, I think," she answered.

"Not just happiness," he said. "'Felicity' means _intense_ happiness. And you know what?"

"What?"

"You are my felicity. In more ways than one." She looked at him and smiled. "I am your intense happiness?" she asked.

He nodded. "Aye."

"I think that is the kindest thing you have ever said to me," she said, leaning in to kiss him. Their lips met for a second, then drew apart. "You don't care that I'm poor?" he asked. She shook her head. "Not at all," she said.

"And you don't mind that I don't have much to give you?"

She shook her head again. "I'd much rather have a man's love than his money," she said. She felt his hand caress hers. "Oh, Lissie," he sighed. "I really don't want to go to Yorktown, not without you by my side. I can't. You only get one shot at life, and I'd rather go through it with you than without you. I love you too much not to."

"And I love you," she said. "You know that." He nodded, then hugged her tightly. She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, feeling safe and peaceful in his warm embrace. She could feel his hand on her waist. She felt the buttons of his shirt press into her breast. Gently, she kissed his shoulder. "Will you marry me?" he whispered in her ear. In this kind of situation, some girls would cry out of happiness. Others would make a face and say no. Some would faint in his arms. Others would jump up and down like a little girl squealing, "Yes yes yes!" Felicity did none of these. She just nodded against his neck. "Yes," she whispered back. He let her go and looked at her. She smiled a little. "Yes," she repeated. "Yes, Ben Davidson, I will marry you." A beautiful smile lit up his face, and he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her fervently. She pressed herself even closer to him and held him tightly as the two kissed each other with every bit of passion they possessed. The fanciest ball gown, the sweetest cake, nor all the Jean Lucs in the world could have been sweeter than his kiss. His lips were chapped from the cold, but still so soft, his body so warm. She felt his fingers in her hair, his other hand on the small of her back. Finally, he kissed her one last time and drew away. His fingers locked with hers, and he brought her hand to his chest. "I-I'm not quite sure what to say," he stammered.

"Me either," she agreed. He reached out and stroked her hair lovingly, then kissed her again. Then he said, "I have something for you." He let go of her hand and fished around in one of the drawers until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a ring and slid it on her finger. It fit perfectly.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. It was gold and had a diamond in the middle, with two twin opals on either side of it. "It was my great-grandmother's," he said. "She gave it to my mother, who gave it to me saying that it 'might come in handy one day'." He smiled a little. "I didn't believe her at the time."

"I suppose mothers do know best," she said. Then she sighed contently. "Oh, Ben," she said. "Married? To live together and take care of each other and have a family together and grow old together?"

"Unless you come to your senses and back out," he said half-jokingly.

"If I did that," she said. "I would have lost my senses, not found them."

"Well, I'm glad," he said with a small laugh, embracing her again. "And yes. Yes, we will." She lay her head on his shoulder and watched the snow fall outside. Perhaps Christmas really was the time for miracles. "Are you happy?" Ben asked quietly. She nodded. "Very," she answered. "Are you?"

"More so than I've been in a long time," he said. He closed his eyes and lay his cheek against hers. "Oh Lissie…" He held her a while. Then they drew apart. "Well," said Felicity. "I suppose we're going to have to start planning a wedding, aren't we?"

"Let's give it a while," he said. "After I get settled and we make some plans. For now, let's just enjoy our engagement." She smiled a little and nodded. Engagement. It was a big word, one that she had never expected to share with him. "Well," she said. "I'm glad we finally have reached an understanding." He nodded. "I am too," he agreed. "I am too." She took his hand and brought it to her lips. "And now, my darling, I should say good night before my parents start to wonder what happened to me." His face fell. "Wilt thou be gone so soon?" he asked. "Stay but little. Thou needs't not be gone yet." She smiled at his choice of words. "I would stay with thee all night if it would not ruin our honor," she said softly, kissing him once more. "But it grows late, and I should say good night."

"I suppose," he said with a sigh. "Good night."

"Good night," she said. They kissed one last time, then she left. Once she had closed the door, she paused a moment. He had really just asked her to marry him. To be his wife. She shook her head. It was almost too good to fathom, and it seemed like a dream. Then she frowned. She opened the door again. Ben was standing in front of the window, gazing out if it. He looked surprised when he saw her. "Lissie?" he asked. "What's the matter?" She smiled. "I forgot the laundry basket."

She walked quickly into the dark kitchen, a smile on her face as the realization that she and Ben were getting married really started to sink in. "Miss Felicity?" asked Rose, who had just been leaving. "Are you all right?" Felicity turned to her. "Oh Rose!" she laughed. "I am more than all right. In fact, I am better than I have been in a long time!" Rose studied her, then grinned. "By the way your cheeks are pink and your eyes sparkling," she said. "I do believe that you've been kissed, child."

"Not just kissed, Rose," said Felicity. "But to be married as well." Rose's eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Is it- is it Mr. Davidson?" she whispered. Felicity nodded. Rose's face broke out into a huge smile. "Oh Lord!" she exclaimed. "Oh child! Oh, married! Why, just yesterday you were a little toddler with strawberry preserves on your lips! And now you have something much sweeter upon them." Felicity blushed. "Oh, Rose," she said.

"Well," said Rose. "I suppose I should congratulate you, Miss Felicity, and pray for our Mr. Davidson. Lord knows he'll need it." Then she smiled. "And Lord knows that he shall give you many a happy night at the end of happy days." Felicity's eyes widened. "Rose!" she said. "I pray thee, hold thy tongue!" Rose laughed. "Go, girl," she said. "Be happy. Now you had better get to bed before you seek such happy nights before their time." Felicity just rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Where have you been?" asked Nan when Felicity got upstairs. Felicity sat down at the dressing table and started to take her hair down. "I was just giving Ben his laundry," she said. Nan raised an eyebrow. "I hardly think it takes someone fifteen minutes to give someone else their laundry," she said.

"Fine," said Felicity. "We just started talking and lost track of time." Nan still looked skeptical. "Just talking?" she asked.

"Just talking," said Felicity.

"Are you sure you-" started Nan, then lowered her voice. "Didn't use your lips for something else?" Felicity whirled around to look at her. "Maybe we did and maybe we didn't," she said. "Besides, tis none of your business."

"It is so my business," said Nan. "I am your sister. I-" she paused and grabbed Felicity's hand. "What is this?" She looked up at her sister. "Felicity? Is this…?" Felicity stood up and closed the door. Then she faced her sister seriously. She sighed and closed her eyes. "Nan," she said. "Ben asked me to marry him." Nan's eyes widened. "Oh God," she murmured. "Oh my…what did you say?"

"I told him yes," said Felicity. "And so…"

"Have you told Mother and Father yet?" asked Nan.

"Not yet," said Felicity. "I will tomorrow. But please, Nan, don't tell anyone. I'd like to keep this to ourselves for a bit."

"I shan't tell a soul," Nan promised. Then she smiled. "Oh Felicity. You! Ben! Married! I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I," Felicity agreed. "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up tomorrow and it will all have been just a wonderful dream."

"Tis not a dream," said Nan. "Oh Lissie, you are so lucky!" Felicity smiled a little. "I guess I am," she said. "In this case, at least." Nan crawled into bed. "Well, congratulations," she said. "To the both of you."

"Thank you," said Felicity softly. As she blew out the candle and crawled in bed next to her, she thought of what had just happened a mere ten minutes ago. In a matter of months, Ben would be her husband, and she would be his wife. He would become her most trusted confidante, and she would be his. Everything that was his would be hers, and everything that was hers would be his. He would be expected to provide for her, and she would be expected to care for him. She looked down at her finger and gently touched her engagement ring. It _was_ pretty, and it served as a tangible promise, though she knew that neither one of them would break it. "I really am lucky," she thought, drifting into a happy sleep. "I am the luckiest girl in Williamsburg tonight…"

The next morning, cannons fired to mark Christmas Day. Felicity, however, woke up to Polly running through the hallway shouting, "Wake up! Wake up! It's Christmas!" They went to church again that morning, then had a big dinner that evening with friends and neighbors. Throughout the day, Felicity didn't see too much of Ben, only enough time for a smile and a soft "merry Christmas". It was that evening that they broke the news. The dinner guests had all left, and the family now sat in the parlor. William was sprawled on the floor, complaining that he had eaten too much, and Polly played with her new doll by the fire. Felicity sat between her mother and Nan, working on her needlepoint. Father and Ben sat in the two armchairs next to fire, Father smoking his pipe and Ben absentmindedly toying with a loose thread on his breeches. "Another lovely Christmas," remarked Father. "You've really outdone yourself this year, my dear." Mrs. Merriman smiled. "Oh, Edward, you say that every year." she said.

"Because it gets better and better every year," he said with a smile. "Starting from the year we were first married and you burnt the turkey." Everyone else laughed, and Mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You didn't seem to mind too much," she said. "You managed to stuff yourself with apple pie instead, if my memory serves me correctly."

"So I did," he laughed. "The first Christmas is not always perfect, but it is certainly one of the best ones of a young couple's life."

"To be young and innocent," mused Mrs. Merriman. "I remember that giddy feeling of young love between newlyweds."

"Where one's spouse can do no wrong," said Father.

"No wonder the first children come shortly after the wedding," said William. Mr. and Mrs. Merriman just rolled their eyes, and Nan kicked William's foot.

"I think I would want to wait at least a year until I had our first baby," said Felicity subtly. "In order to get settled and have the first year or so to ourselves." She looked at Ben, hoping he would get the hint at what she was trying to say. "Wouldn't you, Ben?" He caught on. "At least a year," he agreed. "Hopefully. But-" he paused and glanced at Mother and Father, then back at Felicity. "I suppose we don't have to think about that for a little while, do we?"

"Not for a while," she said. She saw her parents glance at each other, then back at Ben and her curiously. "Why…would you be thinking about children, may one ask?" asked Mr. Merriman almost knowingly. Felicity looked at Ben. "Because," she said, her hands becoming clammy as she prepared to tell her family some of the biggest news she would ever tell them. "Because…well, we- we- I mean- well-" Ben came to her rescue. "What she means," he said calmly. "Is if she will be a child's mother, then I will be the child's father. Down the road in, if all goes well, another year and a half or so. If we're lucky." For a second, the parlor was as silent as a tomb. The only sound was the pop of Nan's needle through her stitching and the crackle of the fire. "Oh dear," thought Felicity. "This was a bad idea." Mother's face then softened. "Oh my," she finally said. "Oh Lissie! Oh Ben, really?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered quietly. "I asked her last night."

"And I accepted his suit," added Felicity.

"And then she told me," put in Nan.

"And he asked for my permission last week," said Father. Felicity looked at Ben. "You did?" she asked. He nodded. "I was waiting for the right time," he said. Mrs. Merriman looked at her husband. "You knew about this?" she asked.

"I knew it would happen eventually," said Father with a smile. "But I had no idea when he was going to do it. I thought it would take him longer than a week."

"I guess the opportunity just fell in my lap," said Ben. Mrs. Merriman smiled. "Well, it doesn't matter when it happened," she said. "I couldn't be happier for you two! Oh Ben, you really will be our son now."

"Yes ma'am," he said again. William looked up. "Wait, what?" he asked. Nan regarded him as if he were an idiot. "Will," she said. "Don't you see it? Ben asked Lissie to marry him, and she said yes." William's eyes grew wide, and he looked up at Ben, amazed. "Really?" he asked. "Married?"

"Married," said both Ben and Felicity.

"Husband and wife?"

"Husband," said Ben.

"And wife," finished Felicity. Nan grinned. "And they can already finish each other's sentences," she said. Mr. Merriman looked at his wife and smiled. "Tis fate, Martha," he said. She smiled back. "Indeed, I believe it is," she agreed. Then Polly, who had been unusually quiet, looked up and said, "So Ben will really be part of our family now."

"That's right, Polly," said Ben. "I'll be your brother-in-law."  
Mother smiled kindly. "You've always been a part of our family," she said. "Only now, it will be official." Then Felicity frowned. "Polly," she said. "That was the first time you called him 'Ben' and not 'Mr. Davidson'." Polly blushed, and everyone laughed. "I don't think I should call my brother-in-law 'Mr'," she said. "T'would be like calling William 'Mr. Merriman'." Ben laughed and lifted her into his lap, and she hugged him. Felicity smiled. Polly had certainly accepted him quickly. The room then erupted in happy chatter. Congratulations were said for the happy couple. Mr. Merriman shook Ben's hand heartily, and Mrs. Merriman hugged and kissed him as well as Felicity, which made him blush a little. Then the questions commenced, such as, "Do your parents know?"  
"Have you thought of any dates for the wedding?" and "Do you still plan to live in Yorktown?" Ben's answers were "No", "Not yet," and "Yes, if she doesn't mind."

"Well," said Father. "I personally think this calls for a toast. Why don't we open some of that wine Felicity brought back from France?"

"Father, that isn't really necessary," said Felicity.

"Nonsense," he scoffed. "We have our first engagement here; I think that calls for a bit of celebration."

"Just please, no engagement parties or anything," pleaded Ben.

"And no huge wedding," added Felicity. "We'd like to keep this as simple as possible."

"Very well," agreed Father. "But that doesn't mean we can't have a small toast right now."

"Very well," Felicity agreed with a smile. After Mother and Father left, William remarked, "Well, it sure was a long time in coming."

"What do you mean?" asked Ben.

"Exactly that," said William. "Ever since you came home and she wouldn't take her eyes off of you."

"And then all of that tension and frustration that followed," added Nan. "Why, one could almost reach out and grab it!"

"He wouldn't stop talking about her the whole time she was in France," said Polly. "He was always worrying that she wouldn't come back."

"I did not," Ben argued.

"Yes," said William with a grin. "You did so."

"Then she came back and you were fine," said Nan. "And both of you always seemed to be actually…happy."

"Until you got sick," added Polly. "But then you got better."

"And now…" said William. "After this sexual tension that had been going on for years* now-" Ben let out a soft groan, and Felicity sighed. "William…" she said. He just shrugged. "I'm just stating the facts," he said.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," said Nan. "The important thing is that it's all resolved now." Ben looked up and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Nan," he said. Felicity glanced at him and smiled. Six months with Jean Luc had been _très bien, très bien_ indeed. But the rest of her life with Ben by her side would be _fantastique_, _merveilleux, _and everything else that was good, in every language of the world.


End file.
